Choices and Consequences
by Sassy26
Summary: It would do no good to cry. She'd made her decision the second he'd fixed her with that first smirk, even though she knew the fallout, if their tryst was ever discovered, would be monumental. **M for Smut and Adult Themes**
1. Touch me here, won't you kiss me there

_**DISCLAIMER:** I own nothing, except my dirty imagination._

_**SUMMARY:** Support Stacie Auction fic for Gleek0511. Prompt was Rachel & Puck + Sex. To be fair, there were a few more requests from the winner, but I won't give them away just yet…._

_**A/N:**So this first chapter here is pretty much pure smut. Now kids, I'm not your mommy, so if you're not old enough to read, please hit the back button. I do not want to be responsible for corrupting your youth! Big thanks goes to my pal Soph who had to deal with me freaking out about writing a particular scene in the next chapter, a freakout that lasted for WEEKS. She's wonderful! And also to the TeamPuckleberry gals over at Twitter who never fail to perk me up with a few kind words or a smoking hot picture of Mark Salling, when I'm down… Wow this sounds like an acceptance speech and I'm hardly worthy of an Oscar…_

They stumbled out of the elevator, bodies fused together at the mouth as they ravaged each other's lips, nipping and sucking urgently.

The shocked gasp from the elderly couple they had jostled as they passed went unnoticed as he backed her down the hall towards the hotel room they had reserved just minutes before, his hands sliding past the open flaps of her coat and under her dress to grip the back of her thighs and press her against his arousal. She moaned at the contact, momentarily disarmed, giving him the opportunity to gain the upper hand in the heated war they were raging with their tongues, intent on discovering and conquering every sweet crevice of her mouth.

After what seemed like an eternity of feverish exploration, Puck broke away from the kiss, trailing his fingers down her flushed cheek.

"Last chance to back out, Rach. Are you sure you want to do this?" His voice was uncharacteristically serious, not a trace of a smirk playing around his full lips as he fixed his intent hazel gaze on her. At his words she suddenly felt her mind clear of the lust induced fog she had been blanketed in since the moment his mouth had first descended on her's, a mere hour before.

_Did she really want to do this?_

Rachel swept her eyes over his face, more mature now than when she'd last seen him at his graduation 10 years before. He was the most breathtaking man she'd ever seen, she thought objectively, feeling the haziness return as his hand pressed on her hip keeping her flush against his body. It was almost as if he knew she was second guessing this and was trying to sway her decision in a more favourable direction by reminding her of his heat and the extent to which he wanted her.

Her fingers threaded in his dark hair, an inch or so longer than an actual buzz cut. It suited him, she decided, rubbing tentatively on the soft strands. And now that the god-awful Mohawk was nothing but a distant memory, its hideousness did not detract from the sheer perfection of his bone structure.

"Rach?" he prompted impatiently and she realized he was still waiting for her answer. Her arms wound around his broad shoulders and she traced his lower lip with her tongue.

"I'm sure Noah. I don't think I've wanted anything as much as I want you right now."

He groaned at her soft admission and reclaimed her lips, grunting in irritation a minute later when he fumbled with his room key, unable to fit into the lock of his door and was forced to wrench his mouth from hers. She kissed her way across his jaw, nuzzling his throat as her hands wandered down the hard planes of his chest, dipping underneath his shirt to splay against his rock hard abdominals.

"Noahhhh," she practically whined when it became apparent that he was having limited success with his task. "Hurry."

"Fuck babe, I'm _trying_, but this piece of shit card just isn't fucking cooperating."

He continued to jab the card in and out of the slot, swearing again and again as the light flickered red. Her nimble fingers pried the card from him and amazingly, the light flashed green on her first try. She shot him a triumphant smile and blew him a kiss as she grasped the handle and pushed her way into the room, tripping lightly on her heels which she promptly kicked off.

Puck just stared at her from the open doorway as she turned to him and arched a sculptured eyebrow in his direction.

"Coming?" she inquired innocently with a flip of her long hair.

He strode in after her, hauling her against his body as he attacked her mouth again with renewed hunger. Spinning her around and pressing her against the wall by the door, he reached out to slam it shut behind them before reaching for the zipper on the back of her little red dress, dragging it down and letting the bodice fall away from her chest until the material from the top half of her dress bunched around her hips. His other arm wrapped itself around her tiny waist, fingers stroking across the satiny skin of her stomach. She threw her head back as he started licking at her earlobe, writhing in his arms as she reached one hand to rest on the back of his neck.

When he released her ear from his mouth, she turned her lips up for his, only vaguely aware of the hand around her midsection pushing the dress entirely off her body so it pooled around her feet, leaving her clad only in a strapless black bra and matching boy leg panties. Puck's probing fingers wasted no time in stroking her through the damp fabric before pushing aside the wet, filmy lace and running his index finger over her slit.

"You're so fucking wet." he acknowledged approvingly, dipping his fingers inside her and swirling her juices around.

Rachel went rigid in his arms, gasping against his mouths as he teased her entrance and rubbed against the taunt bundle of nerves above her opening. When he sunk two fingers into her and rubbing his thumb over her clit, she cried out; the sound muffled against his lips as her hips began to buck against his hand. She breathed harshly, biting her lip as his fingers pumped in and out. Meanwhile, his free hand reached up to unhook her bra and free her breasts to his hungry gaze.

"So fucking hot." he muttered to himself.

As he felt her contract around his fingers he slipped them out of her and took one of her nipples into his mouth, circling his tongue around the hardened peak before releasing it with an audible pop.

One palm braced on the wall beside her, he slowly brought his other hand up in front of her face as he stared into her eyes. The middle and index fingers gleamed wetly and Rachel watched, enthralled, as he licked his index finger clean of her juices. He brought his middle finger up to her lips and she automatically parted her lips and sucked it in. Even as she dazedly thought to herself she ought to be disgusted, she cleaned it with her tongue, tasting herself for the very first time.

He kissed her again, a growl of hunger deep in his throat while Rachel pulled at the collar of his shirt and kissed him back just as passionately, matching every thrust of his tongue and suck of his lips. One arm left his neck to reach down to the hard rod of flesh between his legs; she felt him shudder as she began to rub him through his jeans.

"Do you like that?" She mumbled against his lips, grinding herself against the knee he inserted between her thighs.

"What the fuck do you think?" he retorted, breathing hard as he backed away from her.

She pushed the hair from her face, "Noah, what are you doing?" she was staring at him with confused, glazed eyes; weak and trembling with need. "I need you inside me, now. _Please_."

He shucked off his shoes with his gaze locked on hers, stepping out of his pants and boxes and kicking them away. Rachel caught only the briefest of glimpses of his manhood because scarcely seconds later he was back, pressing her into the wall.

"What?" he demanded seeing the small smile playing at her lips.

"Nothing," she replied suddenly shy, not wanting to admit that she'd never been stunned breathless by the sight of a man's cock before. Feeling her core twitch incessantly, she looked down and reaching for him again, wrapping her fingers eagerly around the now unclothed, scalding length.

"It's not _nothing_," Puck ground out petulantly through clenched teeth as she scraped a fingernail along the underside of his shaft.

"No, it's not," she giggled, testing his girth with her small hands, "It's lovely." _And__so__big._

Puck snorted, "Lovely? Don't think I've ever heard it called that before." He brushed her hand away, hooking one of her legs up and around his waist and aligning himself with her dripping heat.

"Noah, wait!" She dug her nails into his shoulder and he groaned, lifting his head to meet her eyes.

"What?" he demanded harshly. He could feel her heat against the tip of his cock and he needed to be inside her _now_. If she seriously said they had to stop, he couldn't guarantee he'd be able to.

"Do you have protection?"

He swore, relieved, pressing a heated kiss to her mouth before dropping her leg and reaching for his pants. Quickly locating a foil package from the stash in his wallet, he tore the packet open with his teeth and rolled the condom expertly over his hard length.

Rachel watched him, swallowing thickly as he stepped back towards her, cupping the roundness of her ass. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, spreading her legs as he lifted her up and moved forward. She whimpered as he slowly pushed his way inside her, intent on savoring the feel of her, her vaginal walls stretching to accommodate the welcome intruder. She spread her legs wider, toes scraping on the plush carpet before she hitched one leg high around his waist, never more thankful than at that moment for the rigorous years of ballet classes and what was left of the flexibility it had given her body.

"Fuck babe, you are so fucking tight." he hissed, and he was right. His steel length was a snug fit inside her and Rachel moaned with pleasure so intense, she was beyond speech.

"Pilates," she managed to say as she adjusted around his thickness. "Pelvic floor exercises."

"Thank fuck for the new age hippies that invented that shit," Puck rasped out.

She giggled lightly, her teeth scraping against his jaw. "Actually, it wasn't hippies, it was a German Gymnast who came up with the practice during the First World War." She began to move her hips, but his hands on her ass held her still. Staring into her eyes, he leaned forward, his eyebrow arched in disbelief.

"Seriously? You're going to give me a fucking history lesson right now?"

"I guess not," she conceded, hiding her amusement and adopting a faux stern expression. "But if you don't start moving this instant, I swear Noah Puckerman - I'll castrate you."

He laughed, "You're so hot, even when you're horny and threatening to cut my junk off," he teased, nipping playfully at her lips before swallowing her mouth in a kiss.

"_Shut__upppp_. God Noah, just do it," she pleaded when their lips parted, desperate now for him to move.

He began to fuck her then, not too fast or too slow, but with deep long strokes that had her alternating between moans and squeals of delight. She hopped up and wrapped her other leg around his waist, holding on for dear life as he plunged into her, again and again. Finally free to move, she began to fuck him back, meeting him thrust for thrust, gasping against his mouth. Rachel was breathing hard, her small breasts rising and falling, their movement drawing his attention. He cupped one of them in his large hand and kneaded the flesh with just the right amount of pressure, pinching and tugging her nipple until she arched her back, crying his name.

"Noahhhh!"

She went rigid, holding the back of his head as his mouth descended over the other nipple and she came in a blinding rush. She buried her face on his shoulder to keep from screaming, helpless in his arms as he held her up and a second orgasm came on the wake of the first one while Puck continued to piston in and out of her without pause. Her eyes closed and she bit her lip, shuddering as his mouth moved hotly over her breasts to suck on her collarbone. Suddenly, when she was at the point where she wasn't sure she could take anymore, he stopped. Flicking his tongue over the pulse beating wildly in her throat, he moved them away from the wall, carrying her impaled and writhing on his cock as he crossed the room to the bed.

"Oh god, Noah...I can feel every inch of you." she moaned, her mouth seeking his again.

Kissing her languidly now, he slowly lay her down on her back with him on top of her. Her legs fell open as he lifted up, still buried deep inside her and kneeling in front of her spread eagled body. It was then that he swiftly removed his shirt and T-shirt. The sight of their joining was beyond erotic, and his cock pulsed inside her as she continued to contract and expand around him.

"You're fucking beautiful, do you know that?" he rasped, running his hands roughly over her ribcage, before settling back on her hips.

Her eyes fluttered open, dark chocolate irises dilated with pleasure. She ran her hands over his muscular chest, finally naked for her to admire. "So are you." she breathed appreciatively, flicking the nipple ring she was amused to see he still wore; a testament, she was sure, to the 'badass stud' he had once been. Still was, she realised, given that he had her naked and under him within a few hours of them meeting for the first time after nearly a decade. He was___that_ good.

"Noah!" she protested weakly as he began to move again, staring down at her with hooded eyes. "I can't – not again."

"You can and you will," he promised, sliding his palms underneath her and lifting her up by her ass cheeks as he continued to pound into her.

She came for a third time a few minutes later, almost sobbing in relief when he eventually stiffened and collapsed on top of her, tightening her arms around him and cradling his heavy frame against her. Her entire body was limp and shaking from her multiple orgasms; so sensitized she winced and whimpered as he pulled out. He paused at the sound, kissing her nose as he told her he needed to get up and rid himself of the condom. Rachel nodded, reluctantly letting him go.

When he returned from the bathroom a few minutes later, she was lying just as he left her, sprawled diagonally across the bed. Her dark hair was fanned out over the crisp white sheets, her eyes closed tightly and her breath still coming out in short, quiet gasps.

_She's__fucking__exquisite.___Puck watched her for a moment, letting his eyes trail over her petite dancer's body, his gaze lingering on those small, perfect breasts before dropping down to her sex where he could see the gleam of her cum drying on her thighs. Damned if she wasn't right up there as one of the better fucks he'd had but then, don't ask him how, he kind of always knew she would be.

She felt the heat of his gaze upon her and cracked open one eye to see confirmation of his leering. Even now, after having being so thoroughly _had_ by him, she blushed at his blatantly obvious appraisal of her body. "You're staring," she admonished with a small smile, holding her hand out and beckoning him closer. He stepped forward willingly, lacing his fingers through hers before kneeling on the bed beside her.

"Fuck yeah I am. If you could see what I'm looking at, you'd be pretty fucking mesmerized too." he informed her, grazing his hand over the side of her thigh.

She jumped at the contact. "Please Noah, no more, not right now. I can't take it!" she beseeched, exhausted, dragging the hand up so she could kiss his palm.

"No need to ask whether it was good for you then," he snickered arrogantly, lying beside her and propping himself on one elbow, continuing to feast his eyes on the expanse of toned, tanned flesh on display. She smacked him lightly, rolling her eyes.

She wondered if it was odd, how comfortable she felt with him in this moment.

"You're still demonstrably uncouth," Rachel acknowledged, tentatively stretching her legs and groaning as her muscles protested.

"And you still talk like you swallowed a fucking thesaurus," he retorted, dipping his head to kiss her slowly. "You need to nap, Rach, coz I'm gonna wake you up in an hour to do that all over again," he warned her, pushing up on his hands so he could pull down the covers and manoeuvre her under them.

She purred in contentment as her naked body slipped between the cool sheets and she rolled onto her side, so she was facing him.

"Promise?"

He settled next to her, sliding his arm over her waist and yanked her to him so she was half lying on top of him and he could kiss her thoroughly once more.

"Baby I give you the Puckerone personal fucking guarantee."

She shook her head, even as she felt her eyes slipping shut of their own accord. She should have suspected that sex with Noah would wear her out more effectively than the hardest gym work out she'd ever subjected herself to.

"Language Noah," she chastised tiredly, fighting back a yawn. "Please tell me you don't actually still talk like that, ridiculously referring to yourself in 3rd person."

He didn't answer as he grinned into her hair, running his hands over her bare back as her breathing evened out.

"Just sleep Rach."

"And you'll wake me up?" she mumbled drowsily, curling her right hand into a fist by her face and resting her head in the crook of his shoulder, nuzzling into his chest.

"I'll wake you up," he confirmed, tightening his hold around her.

He kept his promise.

She'd awoken to gentle caresses and as the sleep cleared from her eyes, he had slipped smoothly into her, setting an easy pace as they rocked together in perfect synchronization until they both shuddered and rode out their release, exchanging soft, lazy kisses. He fell asleep first this time and as she lay awake in the dark, stroking her fingers through his hair, she heard him mumble her name in slumber and felt the first stirrings of her guilt.

Rachel stilled her movements, clamping down on the sudden onset of tears. _What__had__she__become?__Was__she__really__this__kind__of__woman?_

It would do no good to cry. She'd made her decision the second their eyes had met across the bar and he'd fixed her with that first smirk, even though she knew the fallout, if their tryst was ever discovered, would be monumental, not just personally, but professionally as well. She pressed her lips against his temple, resuming her ministrations on his scalp. It didn't matter. Having Noah like this, touching her, coaxing reactions from her body like no other man had before him was something she wouldn't, no, _couldn't,_regret.

Consequences be damned.


	2. Secret lovers, yeah that's what we are

_**Much later….**_

Rachel quietly slipped out of bed, intent on washing the dried sweat from her body and the stickiness from between her thighs. As she padded silently to the bathroom, she heard Noah shift in his sleep and she held her breath until he let out a slight snore. She smiled in his general direction and continued on to the bathroom. After laying down a bathmat and inspecting the complimentary toiletries supplied by the hotel, Rachel adjusted the water temperature and stepped into the stall. Sighing with contentment, she closed her eyes and tilted her head back, allowing the heavy stream of water to pound soothingly over her face.

She just stood there for a moment letting the hot water work it's magic over her tired muscles, before reaching for a wash cloth and the bottle of shower gel. She had just soaped her breasts and had paused to inspect a faint red mark near her nipple that she suspected had been made by Noah's teeth when the man in question took it upon himself to join her.

_Oh, my._

A low moan slipped past her lips when she felt his presence behind her and large, callused hands slid over her stomach and higher still until they were cupping and kneading the suddenly aching mounds.

_Noah..._

"What are you doing in here? I thought you were sleeping." Rachel murmured, turning her head and receiving a quick kiss.

"You're naked. In the shower. Where else would I be?" he countered with a slant of the eyebrow.

Rachel leaned back into him, a shiver racing down her spine at the feel of his hard chest against her smooth back, evidence of his rampant desire seeming to burn her skin where it was pressed into the slight dent above her backside.

"You want to-" she paused, considering. "In here?"

He thrust against her backside. "Hell yes."

She blinked slowly, staring at the expanse of white tile in front of her.

"Can we? Is it feasible?'

"Wait..." his hands ceased their massaging as he peered around to look in her eyes.

"Are you saying you've never been fucked in the shower?" he asked in disbelief.

She blushed and shook her head. "Well, no." She wasn't ashamed to admit that she was relatively unexperienced in a lot of sexual things and could count the number of partner's she'd had on one hand. After high school and Finn, she'd been single for a long time. College had been hectic, and with Broadway so close she could taste it, Rachel had devoted her first few years in NYC to her studies, intent on giving her career the best possible start. Between academic demands and gruelling dance and vocal classes she hadn't had much time for boyfriends until….well, she couldn't think about _him_ now.

Not when Noah was settling back behind her and rolling one of her nipples between his thumb and forefinger while the other hand swept her wet hair aside so he could move his lips across the nape of her neck.

"Babe, you've been missing out. No lie."

_Evidently__,_ she thought.

Despite her proclamation after their last round, that her body couldn't possibly take anymore and that one more earth shattering orgasm might just prove to be the blissful death of her, she found herself arching into his touch.

Rachel skimmed her fingers down his forearm until she covered his hand with hers, trapping them against her chest, silently telling him not to let go or stop. His hands, rinsed clean of the fragrant soap now, travelled lower, forging a slick path down her narrow ribcage to meet across her flat tummy. Rachel sighed in heavy anticipation, and the sigh turned into a sound of bewildered frustration when he manoeuvred his hands to cover hers, keeping them imprisoned and resting them against her slender thighs.

A rough sound of masculine amusement filled her ears.

"Noah," she pleaded accusingly, her laboured breath matching his. "You're teasing me!"

He dragged his lips down the left side of her throat before moving back up to capture her sensitive earlobe between his teeth, tugging gently. Rachel groaned. She wanted to turn and touch him; to run her hands over him, to feel and familiarize herself with his body, but Puck kept her effectively immobilized against him.

"Noah," her sigh was an entreaty. "Please…won't you touch me?"

"Not yet babe. Right now, I want to see you touch yourself," he said huskily.

Rachel's question _(How?__Why?)_ was answered before she could even penetrate the fog to ask. Puck directed her hands down to her throbbing sex, guiding her fingers past the fleshy lips until she met with hot, slick skin. A soft, breathy sound escaped her.

"Noah-"

"Shh. Don't say anything. Don't think," he instructed softly into her ear. "Just feel yourself." Her revelation of not having experienced sex in the shower before was causing his head to spin. The image of this beautiful, vivacious woman being so…there was no other word for it,_innocent_, in certain regards just made him want to corrupt her; there was so much he could teach her.

He pushed her thumb over her erect clitoris and Rachel's knees nearly buckled. "For me. Do it for me. You have no idea how many times I thought about you, back when we were younger. I used to picture you lying back on your bed touching yourself while you listened to that fucking gay-ass musical shit."

Christ, she was wet. Incredibly wet and incredibly heated. So intense was her arousal, she didn't think she could take much more before she tumbled over the edge again and Puck was very intent upon that happening.

"Did you do that, Rach?"

"Hmm?" she hummed in confusion, her head lulling to the side, leaning against his shoulder.

He circled her highly charged nubbin of flesh with her own finger, teasing her, making her cry out brokenly. He led her other hand up to her chest, making her rub, caress and mould her soft breasts.

"Fuck yourself. With your fingers, like this." His hot breath whispered across the back of her neck and she moaned quietly, unable to answer.

"You did." He guessed, taking that as a sign of confirmation. "That's so fucking hot."

He whisked her palm over budded nipples and lightning seemed to course through her veins, aiming for the apex of her legs where he had two of her fingers pushed up inside her, holding her wrist and forcing her to thrust them in and out in a rhythm that had her dropping all of her weight back on him. Rachel could feel the tiny contractions begin, the muscles clasping strongly around her fingers. Puck saw her strained expression and managed to grit out, "Not yet, babe. Not yet."

She bit her bottom lip and nodded, not really understanding for she was beyond comprehension now, but trusting that he would help her find her release... and soon.

Puck inserted one knee between her thighs, positioning her legs wide apart. She made a sound of protest when his hands left hers but she didn't resist, moving both of her hands to flatten against the wet tiles, bracing herself against them in preparation for what was to come. His rough hands coasted down her sides until he bracketed the soft swell of hips. He held her steady, torturing her a bit with the feel of his erection rubbing against, and in between her taut buttocks. Her breath was coming out in short gasps by the time he hooked his arm low around her mid section and bent her over a little further, sliding into her from behind and sheathing himself tightly inside her hot, moist cavern.

He pulled back a little and pushed into her again, this time to the hilt. Fullness. That wicked sensation had her gasping for air. Rachel tried to move, but his grip was too strong. He kept her immobile as he thrust into her repetitively, pistoning his hips as he changed his pace, slowing his strokes as he shifted angles, searching for the spot that would make her scream.

"Are you close babe?" his voice was strained and she shook her head helplessly.

"I-I don't think so."

Her need built in time with her frustration. She could feel herself on the fringe of that elusive pleasure, struggling futilely to reach it when Puck threw her headlong into it.

'You don't think so?" he grunted.

He suddenly pulled out completely, bending his knees and then slamming back into her, making her cry out sharply as lightening burst beneath her eyelids. She smacked her palm against the wet tiles as she felt the preliminary quakes of her orgasm and Puck's eyes were drawn to her fingers. A big-ass diamond ring was glittering in the fluroscent light of the bathroom, nestled comfortably next to a plain, gold wedding band.

It's not like he hadn't known she was married, like he hadn't felt the cool metal of the ring against his fingers as he trapped her hands above her head and fucked her into the mattress. Finn had told him on the way to the bar that night and Rachel herself had told him all about her husband – some big shot broadway producer – and he'd nodded and pretended to listen, but the reality was he'd seen what he wanted and he'd got caught up in the chase.

The sight of the ring now though, had him halting his movements, plunging him head first into an arctic ocean of realization he'd determinedly ignored since earlier that evening when she had accepted the drink he'd bought her with a coy smile and stroked his arm, lamenting over how long it had been since they'd seen each other, and that she'd missed him.

"Noah?" She spoke his name breathlessly as she looked over her shoulder to see what it was that had him stopping.

Puck, painfully aware of her vaginal contractions urging him on, threw his head back and began to move furiously, hammering into her again and again and again until she came, hard; his own grunt of release, muffled against the crook of her neck.

But it was too much now. He slipped out of her almost immediately, removing his hands from her hips and letting her slump against the tiled wall for support. She shut her eyes tightly as she tried to regulate her breathing, feeling her pussy pulse with languorous aftershocks. She felt, rather than heard him, reach around her for the soap and a few minutes later when she had mustered the energy to support her own weight and turn around, she saw the glass door to the shower ajar. She shivered as the cool air infiltrated the stall.

He wasn't there.

A flash of brown out of the corner of her eye drew her gaze to his bronzed, departing form, a towel slung low around his hips as he exited the bathroom, droplets of water clinging to his muscled frame. Alarm bells sounded in her head as she replayed the last minutes of their coupling and his subsequent silent and abrupt departure. Earlier, he had held her after they had reached release, stroking his hands over her body and declaring that he'd never seen a sexier sight than her exploding around him with her head thrown back in fits of ecstasy. Well, his wording was slightly more colourful, but the premise was the same. The contrast to this time was startling and she wondered what she had done to make him react as he had.

Rachel took her time lathering the soap over her body once more and rinsing out her hair before stepping out of the shower and wrapping herself up in one of the plush hotel robes hanging from the back of the door. She glanced out into the darkened bedroom and saw no movement; the room was still and she wondered what he was doing. Rachel knew he hadn't left the room because she could _feel_ his very essence, her awareness of him prickling the hairs on the back of her neck uncomfortably. She gave herself a once over in the mirror and pulled a face at the sight of her long dark hair, wet and tangled. Taking advantage of the amenities the hotel provided, Rachel made short work of detangling the knots with a cheap but sturdy comb and quickly blasted the hairdryer until the strands fell around her shoulders in gentle waves.

When her curiosity reached its pinnacle and she could bear the silence emanating around the suite no longer, she stepped out of the bathroom, hovering uncertainly in the doorway as she fiddled with the tie on the bathrobe. Puck was standing by the window, one hand leaning against the frame, staring unseeingly through the tinted window and out into the night. His towel lay forgotten on the floor and he hadn't bothered to pull on even a scrap of clothing.

Rachel's mouth ran dry at the physical perfection of his naked body illuminated by the moonlight. He was a living, breathing Adonis, all steel and muscle, hard planes and angles.

"Noah?" she ventured unsurely and when his head shot up at the sound of her voice she was confronted by anger and yes, the mild revulsion she saw glittering in his hazel eyes.

"What the fuck are we doing here, Rachel? You're fucking married!" He bit out harshly and she flinched at the unbridled fury in his tone.

"I know." She said quietly, unconsciously twisting the wedding ring around on her slender finger. "And you knew that when you decided to kiss me at the bar tonight." She couldn't help but remind him, his accusatory stare irking her. It took two to tango and he was just as responsible for instigating this as she was, probably more so in fact. She said as much and he seemed to take it as a personal attack, like she was blaming him for seducing her or some shit; like she had no say in it what had transpired between them that night.

"Maybe, but I'm not the one with a fucking husband at home while I'm off spreading my legs for some other asshole!" he exploded roughly, not pausing to contemplate just why he was bothered by it now when he'd been fine these last few hours, just losing himself over and over in the feel, touch and scent of her body.

"Fuck you!" she spat back, taking a step forward and jabbing her finger in his direction. "You don't know the first thing about my marriage and I'd thank you kindly for not speculating and minding your own god damn business."

Rachel turned away then, lifting a hand to her forehead as she struggled to calm her breathing.

He was momentarily thrown for a loop by her curse, the vulgarity of it on her lips admittedly a big fucking turnon. He felt the stirring in his crotch and focused instead on the high colour in her cheeks as he glared at her profile. She was right. It wasn't like he didn't know she was married. Hell, she'd tried to give him a fucking glowing biography of the douche-bag the second he'd commented on the size of that tacky looking bauble that was out of place on her tiny hands. But Puck had conveniently forgot about that poor bastard, who was probably waiting up across town for his wife to walk in the door, completely oblivious to what she had been up too and with who.

He wasn't jealous, like at all. Just because that fucker got to touch her and hold her, whenever he fucking wanted. _He__wasn't_.

"Does your husband _let_ you fuck around, Berry?" Puck sneered maliciously. "What does it do to him, picturing you riding someone else's cock? Imagining them tasting your sweet, dripping pussy and then pounding you hard into the mattress, over and over again?" He stalked towards her as she moaned involuntarily at the images her mind produced. He grasped her by the shoulders, his face only centimetres from hers.

"Will he smell me on your skin when you crawl back home to him?" he wondered, his volume dropping to a sensual whisper, belying the resentment in his expression. His husky drawl caused her nipples to involuntarily pucker to attention and she was fervently thankful for the protective coverage the thick bathrobe provided. "Does he get off on it? Or will he punish you?"

"Stop it Noah!" she begged, turning her head away from his furious gaze as a stray tear slid down her cheek, unable to stand the things he was saying to her.

He stared at her profile; guilt, anger and disgust vying for dominance as he tried to reconcile the mildly neurotic girl who had refused to let him touch her boobs during their ill fated 'relationship' sophomore year, with the woman who'd allowed him, no _begged__him_, to fuck her senseless. Three fucking times. He didn't recognise this version of the girl he'd once known and didn't realize he'd muttered something to that affect until watery eyes locked on him.

"Don't look at me like I'm some kind of whore." she requested, sickened when she recognised the pathetic tone of her appeal, when what she really wanted was to demand he apologize for taking such a disparaging view of her. "I've never done this before."

"Fucked a random stranger?"

She levelled him a hurt look; she'd _told_ him her experience was limited. "Strayed from my marital bed." she corrected, wounded. "And you're not a stranger."

He rolled his eyes mockingly. "I'm as good as. Does that mean I'm special? Should I feel privileged that the great Rachel Berry was so overcome by my raw studliness that she had no choice but to curl her hand around my cock and beg me to fuck her with it?" She flushed at his words, but with the memory of the recent mind blowing orgasms he'd drawn from her body so fresh in her mind, she couldn't find it in her to be sorry, even if he was determined to press the guilt upon her. Still, the thought that he would come to regret this night, and in fact probably already did, gnawed away at her. Especially since she knew, psychic powers or not, that she would never be pleasured so intensely and _effortlessly_ as she had been with him.

Rachel raised her eyes to meet his fierce gaze, her own miserable.

"I'm so sorry Noah." She apologized, pained. "I didn't think about how this would affect you when-" She paused, lowering her voice to a whisper, "When it was over."

She realized she also hadn't calculated the effect walking away would have on her. She'd thought they'd have one night and that would be it, unaware that the few short hours they had spent together would change her; for the better, and for the worse.

_Damnit__Puckerman_.

He cursed himself out as he saw her lip tremble and against his will, the anger began to retreat. She was so fucking beautiful and when she looked at him, with those great big doe eyes, he couldn't help but hate that he'd hurt her with the things that he'd said. He sank down to sit on the edge of the bed, leaving her standing awkwardly as he ignored her, thinking hard. _Why__did__it__bother__him__so__much,__the__knowledge__that__she__wasn't__his?___He didn't want her, not like that. He'd just wanted to fuck her and yes he was willing to admit, if only to himself, how long he'd been itching to do just that. Even after all these years, Rachel Berry was still on permanent rotation in his spank bank, and it was her face, contorted in ecstasy, he'd imagined on more than one occasion when he was with some other random chick.

Why he pictured her, he didn't have a clue. He thought it was a throwback to his teenage hormones that had been so turned on by her knee socks and short skirts and frustratingly granted no outlet, considering she hadn't allowed them to ever progress past 2nd base when they'd been together that one weird-ass week. His continual infatuation with her had never bothered him up until now, because it had only been a fantasy, it hadn't been built on anything real. But now….well, _shit_. Now that he'd had her and Puck knew the sounds she made as he touched her and the way she looked as she came, she'd be pretty hard to forget. And that shit was just fucking scary. He didn't need her crazy in his head or her baggage in his relatively comfortable life.

Not that that was even an option, he reminded himself gruffly. Because she was fucking married.

_She wasn't looking for an affair, right? This was a one-time deal only._

"No."

He looked up at her in askance and she was shifting restlessly, fidgeting with the ends of her hair, a nervous habit he was surprised to see she'd never grown out of.

"I'm not looking to have an affair."

"Said that out loud, did I?" he mused, indifferently.

"Noah, I-" her mouth clamped shut before she could decide what she was going to say. What could she say?

After what seemed like an eternity of silence she tried again. "I didn't intend for this to happen you know. I didn't imagine that when Kurt invited me to the bar to catch up with you, Quinn and Finn that we'd end up here." She almost took a step towards him, wanting to touch his shoulder but she figured the move would be unwelcome.

"But then we talked, and we bantered, and it was…fun." she sighed, troubled. "I haven't had fun in a long, long time Noah. And I know that's not a valid excuse, but you were looking at me like you-"

She paused again.

"Like I?" he prompted.

Rachel sucked her lower lip between her teeth. "Like you wanted me." She blew out a breath that tousled a strand of her hair and she brushed it aside impatiently. "And I wanted you too, so badly. I miss that feeling."

That last part was almost inaudible but Puck heard it and was puzzled. She said he didn't know the first thing about her marriage and maybe that was true. _She__missed__that__feeling?__What__exactly__was__going__on__between__her__and__her__husband?___He shook his head, not letting himself be drawn into that train of thought.

"One night, that's all I wanted. And Noah, it was _spectacular_."

Her pulse picked up just thinking about it. "I hate that you're angry with me and I'm sorry that you regret it, but I'm also thankful. It's what I needed and I won't forget it, forget _you_. I couldn't." Her voice had dropped to a whisper and she turned away, collecting her wrinkled dress, bra and panties that had been scattered around by the door. When she went to pass him on the way to the bathroom to dress, he grabbed her wrist and stopped her short.

He looked at her for a long minute before asking mildly, "Where are you going?" His even tone, his entire demeanor, it was in direct contrast to the angry man that had just stood there only moments ago and _judged_ her for falling prey to his charms.

"Well, I-" she faltered. "You-"

"One night right?" He interrupted, pulling her down to perch on his knees. He undid the belt of the bathrobe and slipped his hand inside, cupping her breast as he kissed her chin, in the spot that dented whenever she smiled. He glanced back at the alarm clock, glowing brightly in the dim lighting. 3:36.

"We've still got time." His eyes were apologetic when they met hers and she could see how much he regretted his earlier outburst. What was done, was done. As much as he wished things were different, they weren't. He could either end it now, or he could take full advantage of the few hours he had her.

She slid her hands up over his chest to rest on his shoulders.

"Noah, are you sure?"

She searched his eyes for something, finding his expression inscrutable. It was unsettling, to say the least.

He didn't answer, he just kissed her. If one night was all they had, he'd just have to make sure the memory would last.

The sun had broken the horizon when she finally stepped back into her clothes, determinedly keeping her gaze averted from the striking man she'd left alone in the bed. Puck watched her, perched back on the headboard with two pillows stuffed behind his back, the bed sheets pulled midway up, resting low on his hips.

Rachel pulled on her coat, and shook out her hair, feeling in her pockets for her house key and the thin material coin purse that held her ID and credit card. Thankfully, they were still there and accounted for. Intent on delaying the moment just a little longer, she fished out a small tube, swiping a thin sheen of strawberry flavoured gloss over her lips and mashing them together. With nothing left to do, she finally looked at him and he offered her a half hearted grin.

"One for the road Berry?" He suggested, holding his hand out to her. Without missing a beat, she took his outstretched fingers and held them tightly as she bent down and kissed him goodbye.

Their last kiss was slow and sensual and when it came to an end she rested her forehead against his and exhaled shakily, her breath teasing his lips.

"Why are you crying?" he asked huskily and she was surprised when she wiped at her cheek and her fingers came away wet.

"I don't know."

Her laugh came out strangled and she felt the tightness in her throat.

_It was time to go._

She pressed one last lingering kiss against his temple and walked to the door on unsteady legs, pulling it open and turning back to take a final look at him. Her glance lasted only a few seconds, before her heart clenched painfully and the thought came out of nowhere, that if she didn't leave then, she wouldn't be able to.

"Goodbye Noah." Rachel whispered and before he could respond, she was gone, the lock clicking loudly into place behind her retreating form.

Puck sat frozen for a full minute before he tossed back the sheets and crossed to the door in three long strides, his hand closing over the handle intent on ripping it open and calling out to her. His grip tightened on the metal and then let it go completely, his hand falling uselessly at his side as his shoulders slumped.

It was over.

Later that morning he was confronted by a gigantic billboard in Times Square, one she had proudly pointed out to him that evening before, with the name Rachel Berry-Weitzmann stamped proudly beneath her picture. He told himself he would tuck all thoughts of the night before into a dusty corner of his mind and get on with it, heading for the nearest subway stop that would take him home to Brooklyn. Hopping onto the next train, he studiously ignored the flirtatious smile a brunette flashed him as he passed and walked further down the car. He dismissed the woman easily; her eyes were the wrong colour and her nose too perfectly in proportion to her features.

It was then he realized how truly fucked he was.


	3. Tempted by the fruit of another

_**Thanks to Nikki and Susan (my Twitter Twin) for riding shotgun with me on this chapter. Your editing and suggestions were much appreciated!**_

Rachel took a deep breath and bunched the burgundy velvet curtain in her hand as she stood left of stage, looking out over the mass of chattering people swarming into the theatre and taking their seats. He was going to be out there tonight, she knew it. Kurt had called her earlier in the week after a lunch date with Quinn, requesting three tickets for her, Finn and _him_ to attend the Saturday night performance. There were only two weeks left of the show's run and the three had yet to see Rachel in anything on Broadway.

Her pulse was beating a mile a minute as her eyes darted from person to person, searching for broad shoulders and that familiar smirk.

_Noah._

She'd settle for sight of Quinn's flaxen hair or Finn's tall, gangly frame but frustratingly, her search was futile. Rachel hadn't imagined she'd have to encounter him this soon, after…..well, that night. Kurt running into Quinn and Finn in Manhattan last month had been a fluke. After all, it appeared that the five former classmates had all been living in close proximity for several years, yet Rachel and Kurt had never spoken or socialized with the other three during that time. She thought perhaps that the night at the bar, when they had all met to catch up was just a once off. She _hoped_ it had been only a once off. She couldn't bear the alternative, not after what they'd done.

But she'd agreed to meet the trio after the show anyway, making a mental note to send a text to Kurt, reprimanding him for leaving her high and dry at the last moment to take his partner, Brad, upstate for the weekend. He was her best friend and therefore contractually obligated to act as her moral compass and provide the guidance which she would sorely need that night, or so she feared.

A stage hand touched her arm, signalling her to get into position and Rachel nodded to him with a tight smile. Casting her eyes out over the audience one last time as the theatre lights dimmed, she decided to be thankful she was unable to locate McKinley's former bad boy. Her equilibrium was off enough as it was. If she had confirmation of his presence and knew exactly where to look for him when she was up there on stage, she knew she would lose it. Not that she needed to _see_ him to know that he was here. She could _feel_ him. That nauseous feeling that had been churning in her stomach all week intensified and she clucked her tongue impatiently, annoyed with herself for allowing him to distract her.

Rachel turned on her heel and made her way down the narrow staircase and under the stage to take up her position on the platform that would hoist her up through the floor for the opening number. Mentally she counted to 10 and took a few more deep cleansing breaths, stretching her legs again in preparation for the rigorous dancing she would do that night.

The orchestra started playing the opening bars to 'All that Jazz' and she felt the platform jerk. Once more, she burst onto the stage with a sultry expression fixed in place and the butterflies just dispersed as she left Rachel Berry in that darkened crawl space and became the vaudevillian murderess Velma Kelly. She'd performed in Chicago: The Musical three hundred and thirty seven times at last count and not once had she stumbled over a line or faltered on a high note; damned if she was going to let Noah Puckerman affect her up there.

_She__was__a__professional._And she couldn't let herself forget it.

***/***

After the show, high on adrenaline, Rachel was taking off her stage makeup when there was a sharp knocking at her dressing room door. Her heart stopped for a minute before it resumed it's regular beat and she forced herself to calmly wipe the excess cover-up from her chin. Quickly, she rubbed a light moisturizer over her face as she stood and gave herself a cursory once over. She hadn't had a chance to change out of her costume from the final number and wished she had time to swap the revealing black dress with its matching black garter and thigh high black stockings for something that offered a lot more coverage.

A knock sounded again, impatiently this time, and she rose on suddenly shaky legs to cross to the door, vowing to focus on Quinn and Finn and not let herself get caught up in Puck, his banter, and his unique brand of charm. She opened the door with a flourish, a forced smile fixed on her lips that faded as she caught sight of him standing before her, alone.

"N-Noah." She cursed the tremor in her voice. "Where are Finn and Quinn?"

Puck pushed past her and into the small room, his presence making the space feel more cramped than it actually was.

"Davey, their second kid, came down with a fever this afternoon and chucked a fucking hissy fit when he found out mommy and daddy were going out for the night." He answered, looking around with interest. "Quinn said they're sorry they couldn't make it."

"Oh," she faltered. "Well I'm sorry too."

His eyebrow rose at the stiffness of her tone and he leaned his shoulder comfortably against the freestanding wardrobe, across from where she was standing.

"You look pissed." He noted, amused. "Aren't you happy to see me?"

Rachel shot him a look, not understanding how he could just stand there and act so flippant and unaffected after all that had happened between them. "Please don't make this situation any more difficult or awkward than it needs to be," she requested wearily.

"Why would it be awkward?" he asked innocently. He waited. "Is it the _'I've__seen__you__naked__thing?_' Because from what I remember babe, you've got nothing to be embarrassed about."

His heated gaze raked over her body and she crossed her arms protectively over her chest and glared at him.

Puck rolled his eyes. "Aww come on Rach, don't be a fucking prude. I gave up my Saturday night to watch you frigging prance around on stage, singing fucking show tunes. At the very least I deserve a kiss hello, preferably with tongue." he suggested with a wink. Her nostrils flared and she opened her mouth to retort but he cut in before she had the chance to admonish him for the indecency of his comment.

"I'm kidding." His smirk gave way to a small smile and his voice dropped as he stepped closer to her. "Seriously Rach, you were fantastic up there. I knew you were good, but shit, you really blew me away." He offered her the perfect, orange rose that he'd been holding and she accepted it graciously, her irritation fading at the surprisingly sweet gesture.

"Thank you Noah. I'm glad you enjoyed it." Rachel said softly, calmer now, sniffing the fragrance of the flower delicately.

A single orange rose said 'I'm proud of you'. She wondered if he knew that.

His eyebrow rose and he threaded his thumb through the belt loop of his dark washed jeans. "_Enjoyed_ is a stretch, babe. I said_you_ were good, the rest of the thing…fuck, complete snooze fest. But I guess seeing you in that get up made it worth while. Your boobs look fucking luscious in that thing." His hand had reached out before she knew it and his finger traced along the top of the dress, stroking the swell of her breasts that spilled over the top, thanks to a magic built-in under wire that pushed her small assets up.

She slapped his hand away, going from relaxed to incensed in under 2.5 seconds. "Stop it, Noah. You're being completely inappropriate." She accused, moving away, intent on putting as much space between them as she could.

Before he could reply, there was another sharp knock on the door. After a beat, it swung wide open and a slim blonde man strode in.

"Sweet pea, I've just been talking to Martin and he agreed that you were quite flat in the finale. We'll make sure Cecilia Barnstrom is available to you on Monday. As you know she is the best vocal coach on the East Coast," the man announced, his gaze fixed on the petite brunette.

At his words, Rachel promptly forgot about Puck and turned her attention onto the newcomer. "A vocal coach, Michael? Do you really think that's necessary? Yes I may have been slightly off tonight but there's no need to call in the cavalry. I'm sure I'll be back to perfect pitch tomorrow."

"It's not a risk we can afford to take sweetness, you know that. Not with the finale show next weekend and all the media that will be in attendance-" Michael stopped, finally taking notice of Puck and arching his brow questioningly, "I don't believe we've met." He said smoothly, holding out his hand for Puck to shake.

"Michael Weitzmann, Broadway Producer."

The way he announced himself was so pompous that Puck had to bite back his snicker, mindful of Rachel's anxious gaze.

"Noah Puckerman, Brooklyn Mechanic." He drawled self depreciatingly, earning him a reproachful look from Rachel.

"Noah owns a garage in Williamsburg that's proven to be quite successful." She expanded for her husband, hoping that the underwhelming way in which Puck had introduced himself was not evidence of the misguided notion he had when they were younger, that he was just another Lima Loser.

After the introductions were made, an awkward silence fell over the three and Michael coughed pointedly.

Rachel flushed. "Oh, how rude of me! You must be wondering how we know each other. Michael, Noah is from my hometown, he attended that same temple as my fathers and I. Noah, Michael is-" She paused, biting her lip and meeting Puck's gaze steadily. "My husband."

Puck barely blinked at her admission and instead, took a better look at the man she had married.

_Complete__douchebag,___he surmised, unconsciously straightening and squaring his shoulders.

"Brooklyn, huh?" Michael was saying. "I hear the crime rate dropped there last quarter. That's encouraging, you should hang onto that business then, it may be worth something some day." The other man's tone was completely dismissive as he reached for his phone and frowned at the screen while sliding his arm around Rachel's waist in a proprietary fashion.

Puck seem to ignore the jibe and while Michael's touch surprised her, Rachel saw Puck's gaze narrow in on the movement so she deliberately linked her fingers through her husbands, even as she ignored how wrong the action felt.

When glittering hazel eyes met her gaze she looked away, wondering at the sudden flair of guilt and the effort it took to resist the urge to wrench out of Michael's suddenly stifling grip.

He shouldn't be looking at her that way, not with her husband in such close proximity.

_He__shouldn't__be__looking__at__you__like__that__period,__Rachel__,_her conscience reminded her.

She didn't want him to.

_Did she?_

"How do you two know each other again?" Michael asked, tearing his attention reluctantly from his phone and fixing his gaze on the other man.

"We were in high school together, back in Lima." Puck supplied. "I was a year ahead of Rachel."

"Noah was in the glee club with Kurt and I." Rachel added, pasting on a fake smile as Michael's eyes flickered back to her.

"Yes, I do recall you mentioning something about your little glee club."

Puck saw her glare at her husband who had just reduced the team she had lead to back-to-back National Championship wins to a 'little glee club'. Idiot was oblivious to his wife's irritation, once again punching at the keys of his phone with his thumb. Puck waited a beat, expecting her to make a scathing remark, defending the club she had once lived and breathed for, oddly disappointed when she remained mute.

He shouldn't be surprised. She was on _Broadway._ Ohio must have been nothing but a distant memory for her now, and the McKinley High Glee club, in hindsight, just a small stepping stone on the journey to the stardom she'd achieved, he supposed.

Still, he found himself nostalgically wishing for the patented Berry rant that never came.

"Yeah, we go way back." Puck commented, staring daggers into Michael's head as he focused on his task. "So how long is it going to take you to get ready, Berry?" The use of her maiden name was deliberate. "We've got shit loads to catch up on."

Rachel chewed her lip, glancing between the two men, only one of which had their attention on her.

"Oh! Well with I think it might be wise to take a rain check Noah, don't you think? We can reschedule a time more suitable for Finn and Quinn to join us." She tried to bow out gracefully. There's no way she could go out with Noah on her own. She couldn't trust herself, not where he was concerned and that realization shamed her.

He knew exactly what she was doing and the smirk he threw her way, told her so.

"C'mon Berry, the night's still young! I've come all this way across the bridge to watch you perform, can't you spare half an hour for a cup of coffee? You won't turn into a pumpkin on my watch - I promise." Puck joked, though she knew from the way his eyes had darkened and swept over her that his intentions weren't all that pure. Certainly he was after a lot more than just a cup of coffee.

The thought shouldn't have excited her.

"I don't know," she murmured, fervently hoping her husband would come to the rescue and suggest she should go home to bed. He was constantly reprimanding her for not getting enough rest, counting her drinks when they were out and banning caffeine from their home so it wouldn't affect her voice.

Puck couldn't know it, but even a potentially empty promise of a cup of coffee was worth testing her self control.

"You should go." Michael decided, finally sliding his cell phone into his pocket and patting her hip. "You won't have much of a break when the show wraps up, not if you're serious about taking on the role of Elphaba when Wicked reopens next year." He kissed her forehead and smiled indulgingly at her. "You've got talent sweetheart, but you're no Idina Menzel. You'll have to work hard to pull it off."

Puck watched as Rachel's face turned a brilliant shade of red and found he was furious at the douche bag on her behalf. _Who__did__he__think__he__was?_ Berry had more talent in her cute, tiny hands than half the actresses he'd seen tonight, _put__together_.

_C'mon__baby_, he urged silently. _Don't__let__him__get__away__with__that._

"Naturally," she replied frostily, finally stepping away from her husband, "I understand the demands of the role. But I feel I am more than capable of portraying Elphaba with the same conviction – if not more - as those in the past."

Puck watched as Michael actually patted her head! His eyes widened, sure that Mr. Hot-Shot producer was going to end up with a stiletto staked in his throat from the way Rachel was glaring at him. She wasn't a dog for fuck's sake!

"Perhaps." Michael agreed, "We'll soon find out. Auditions start the first week in September."

"So," he changed the subject. "Darling, you and…Noah is it?" At Puck's nod, he continued. "Are going out for coffee?"

"Yes." Rachel answered sulkily, her thoughts mirroring Puck's. There was no way she was going back to that house right now, not if she didn't want to end up a widow, because after those comments? Michael Weitzmann was not her favourite person right then. "I won't be late." She added, throwing Puck a look of warning.

"No matter." Her husband waved his hand dismissively. "You know as soon as I take my sleeping tablets I'm out for a solid 10 hours. Don't wake me in the morning, I don't have meetings until 11."

Pucks smile widened to a grin of triumph. The dude was virtually putting himself into a coma; he'd have no idea where his wife was or how long she'd been gone for. Hell_,_ he was practically giving Puck _permission_ to keep her out all night and fuck her brains out.

"Meetings? Michael, tomorrow is Sunday. What could possibly be so urgent that it can't wait until Monday?" Rachel was frowning at him, and husband and wife stared at each other for a long moment, the intensity of their gazes making Puck feel as though he was missing something.

"Theatre is not a 9-5 job sweetheart, you know that. I have to meet with some actresses we're considering for an off-Broadway act and the only time I have free all week is tomorrow."

Rachel sighed. "More auditions?" She asked hollowly, wrapping her arms around herself almost protectively, a move that had Puck's gaze narrowing as he assessed the situation.

_Yep, something was definitely off with those two._

Michael nodded. "I have to go. Have fun tonight darling. I imagine you'll be back here at the theatre by the time I wake so I'll see you for an early dinner tomorrow evening, shall I? I'll make reservations at that Italian place you like so much, hmm?" With another kiss to the forehead and a nod to Puck, he was gone.

Puck stared at the door as it shut with a resounding click, turning back to Rachel with a superior smirk. "So that's the douche bag who shackled himself to your crazy huh?" he asked, his tone smug.

"That's my husband." She confirmed, her mind seemingly miles away.

Puck paused and regarded her thoughtfully as she stared blankly into space. He rolled his shoulders restlessly. Now that he'd finally met man he'd done nothing but wonder about since the moment she'd left him in that hotel room, he just didn't get it.

"The fuck Berry?" He burst out finally.

She jumped at the ferocity in his tone and broke free of her daze, turning surprised brown eyes on him.

"What the hell was that? That jackass just insulted you twice and you let him! What's wrong with you?"

"There's nothing wrong with me." She stated surely, walking back over to the mirrored dressing table and turning back to face him.

Rachel shifted uncomfortably under his penetrating stare.

"_Bullshit!_ The Rachel Berry I knew would have socked that son of a bitch in the jaw for having the balls to suggest you might not have the chops to get a part you tried out for AND to imply you'd give less that 110% in the attempt."

"Michael is a very successful producer, Noah. He sees hundreds of actresses and singers throughout the audition process." She tried to reason. "He was simply pointing out that all of those women would be ahead of me in their audition preparations seeing as I am currently preoccupied with this show. He'd be doing me a great disservice if he failed to remind me of that."

Puck's eyebrow rose. "You keep on telling yourself that babe. It seems to me that as your husband he'd know better than anyone that yes, there are thousands of other actresses, but there's only _one_ fucking Rachel Berry. It's his _job_ to believe that you're better than them, because you_are_."

Rachel flushed at the conviction in his tone but shook her head, "I wish you wouldn't be so judgemental Noah. It's obvious that you've measured Michael against some imaginary yard stick of yours, found him lacking in some way and have deemed yourself the better man, however-"

"Actually Rach," He corrected, "I haven't, but it seems like you might have."

She fought the urge to wipe the grin of self satisfaction off of his face but the thing was she couldn't really disagree. Having the two of them in the same room at the same time, just illustrated with perfect clarity the differences between the two men. Not just physically, but in terms of their attitudes, expressions and general outlook.

Puck might be a little rough around the edges and his confidence at times off putting, but she knew without a doubt that he had a heart of gold, that he would do anything for those he loved.

Michael on the other hand, was often dismissive of those closest to him. His arrogance bordered on offensive and was often blunt to the point of rudeness.

She couldn't admit, not even to herself, that if she was given the option right at that moment to choose one of them, with the promise of no consequences for her actions, the decision would take her but a moment; Puck wore that loathsome superior smirk for good reason.

Puck knew his assumption was spot on, he could read it all over her face. He approached her slowly, a predatory smile curving his lips. Rachel immediately recognized the change in his demeanour and tried to back away but she came up hard against the dresser she'd been standing in front of.

"Noah-" She warned softly, shaking her head at him as if the gesture in itself would deter him.

"You have compared us, haven't you Rach?" He prodded, only halting when he was standing right in front of her, their bodies almost touching. "You've thought about me constantly as you lay wide awake beside him, replaying that night over and over in your mind, " Puck predicted. "Am I right?"

She stared at him with wide eyes, unable to form a single word as she stood, frozen to her spot, waiting to see what he'd do.

"Do you know I've been dreaming about it Rach? About you?" Puck revealed, leaning forward. His nose brushing against her cheek as he breathed her in and she shuddered involuntarily.

"Fuck, the things I want to do to you babe." His voice washed over her in a lazy caress.

A noise, one that sounded suspiciously like "Unf" blew out between her slightly parted lips.

"Does he light your skin on fire like I do?" He demanded huskily, trailing his fingers up her arm, leaving goose bumps in his wake.

"Noah, he-" she couldn't think of what she wanted to say. The scent of him, soap, spicy cologne and something else that was just unmistakably masculine tantalized her senses, leaving her feeling quite light headed.

"I don't think he does." Puck ignored her, answering his own question. He leaned in again and trapping her against the dresser, his palms flat on the wood on either side of her.

_He doesn't._

Her nails dug into his forearms as she wrapped her hands around them in an effort to keep him in place and prevent him from moving closer.

"Don't," she begged pathetically, even as her eyes fluttered shut. "You can't-"

"I can." He corrected her roughly. "_He_ can't. I don't think he has a fucking clue what you need babe, what you like."

"I can make you _scream_." Puck reminded her, his breath hot against her cheek. He licked the outer shell of her ear, then blew gently, satisfied when her back stiffened.

A strangled whimper sounded from her throat and she turned her head to avoid his probing tongue but with that movement, found herself nose to nose with him instead.

_God Rachel, don't. You're stronger than this. _

"Do you remember baby? How good I felt inside you?" She was trapped in his gaze now, unable to look away and break the spell he seemed to be casting over her, because surely she wasn't taking leave of her senses voluntarily. "Filling you up," he continued lewdly, "Your cunt, stretching to accommodate me…."

She was weakening, he knew she was close. Her breath was coming short and fast and her pupils had dilated, making her chocolate irises darker, seemingly black. He could tip her over the edge so easily, he thought arrogantly. The question was, how did he want to do it?

"I've thought about it, every second of every _day_." He punctuated his words as he thrust his arousal against her. "Do you know what torture it was to have to think about fucking some random bimbo when all I wanted was to have you again?"

She jerked her head back at that and he could see the anger burning in her heated gaze and he chuckled, infuriating her.

"Does that bother you babe? Thinking about me with other chicks?" To her credit, she didn't utter a sound but he could tell it did. He placed a lingering kiss over the pulse that was beating a mile a minute at the base of her throat.

"Like thinking about you and that pansy doesn't piss me off?" he said gruffly. "The thought of him touching you, Rach, putting his hands where mine have been and thrusting into that tight pussy of yours. Shit, it makes me homicidal." His teeth nipped along her neck and she pushed feebly at his chest, tossing her hair.

"He's my husband Noah." She stressed, struggling to keep her tone even. She thought it prudent not to mention how rare an occasion it was these days that she and Michael had sex.

Pucks hands covered hers, trapping them against his chest.

"Yeah I got that memo." He snorted derisively. "What you see in that dick is a fucking mystery, but it doesn't change the fact that you want me."

"I don't" she protested, her denial unconvincing even to her own ears. He smirked down at her.

"You do. Don't lie to me, not when your body tells me a different fucking story."

She drew on all her willpower and straightened, fixing her expression into one of steely determination. "Stop it Noah!" she beseeched. "I'm attracted to you, that much I won't deny. But I don't want this. One night, that's what we had together. You need to leave it at that."

Her tone was firm and he might have almost believed she meant it had her eyes not flickered down to his lips.

_Jackpot._

"One night isn't nearly enough and you know it, baby."

She sagged against him, feeling the fight leave her body. _Oh__no_.

"I wont tell anyone babe, it'll just be our dirty little secret." Puck cajoled, rubbing his thumb over the inside of her wrists, waiting. She was going to give in, he knew it.

"I can't." She objected one last time. "Michael-"

"Is a fucking douche that doesn't know what the fuck he's talking about." He butted in, impatient now. "You're fucking brilliant Rach. He thinks your voice is flat? My ass baby. _No__one_ sings like you. No one's _better_ than you. That fucking Menzel chick? She's got _nothing_ on Rachel Berry. You can't let him make you forget that."

That was it. She was done resisting him. With a strangled cry she grabbed the back of his neck and crashed her lips against his and he fought the urge to chuckle. In any case, his mouth was otherwise occupied. Her submission was almost too easy.

She might be all grown up and sophisticated, but there was still a chunk of the old Rachel Berry that was rankled with insecurities, though she tried to deny them, and she yearned for validation. There were some things that could always be relied on to get her hot; theatre talk and the assurance that her talent far exceeded those around her.

Puck chose to ignore the fact that it was Finn that had once supplied him with that little bit of information.

Beggars couldn't be choosers, not when there was panty dropping on the agenda, and that flimsy scrap of black was coming off - _now_. The fishnet stockings though, and the fucking garter set that had given him a hard on the second his eyes had zeroed in on them up on stage? Shit was staying _on_.

She'd already delved into his mouth and their tongues were raging a fierce war as he pressed her up against the dresser, lifting her easily to set atop the timber, scattering makeup and perfume across it with a clatter. He nudged her thighs apart and situated himself between them and she hooked her legs around his waist, his hardness bumping against her core.

She hissed at the contact, wrenching her mouth away from his.

"God, I shouldn't have…have to stop." she panted, even as her arms came around his neck and her mouth blindly sought out his again. "Not again. This is so, so wrong." She murmured against his lips, raking her nails through his short hair.

"Bullshit. Fucking _right_." He grunted back, sliding his palms under her ass and grinding against her, before lifting her again and striding the few paces to the leather couch on the opposite wall.

He dumped her unceremoniously on the couch and knelt down in front on her, gripping the undersides of her knees and pulling her forward so her legs dangled over the side and her upper body feel slightly back into the plush cushions, bunching her dress up around her waist.

His fingers curled over the top of her panties and he tugged them downwards where they immediately snagged on the garter straps at the top of her thighs. With an impatient flick of his wrist he had ripped them off her, one of the snaps from the belt flicking up as the rest of the underwear tore, baring her sex to his greedy gaze.

She gasped, her eyes widening as she looked at him in shock, "Noah!"

He smirked unrepentant, bunching the ruined panties in his hands and holding them aloft like a trophy.

'These are fucking saturated." He informed her. "But you already knew that, didn't you horny girl?" he teased, digging his fingers into her hips as his elbows pushed her legs further apart and he could see the glistening folds of her pussy lips.

"You're so fucking wet, aren't you baby?" he asked as his head lowered and he kissed the inside of her thigh and worked his way towards his destination. He paused at her entrance and locked gazes with her as she bit her lips in anticipation, digging her fingers into the leather seat.

"You smell so good baby. Are you going to taste sweet too?" he licked his lips and she cried out at the first contact of his tongue as it darted out to lick at her slit.

"Mmm." He lifted his head and he mashed his lips together. "Fucking delicious."

Puck rose, resting his knee on the couch by her hip and capturing her lips in a scorching kiss as he slowly slid his hand up her ribcage to caress her breast. Her nipples were rock hard and clearly defined through the thin fabric of her costume.

He cupped her mound, caressing the erect nipple with his palm and she sighed deeply into his mouth. Pulling away from him ever so slightly, she pushed her chest into his hand to increase the pressure. Puck gently but firmly massaged her breast, controlling his urgency and the desire to unsnap his pants and just take her like a wild animal.

"Noah! Oh _Noah_…"

His lips trailed down her throat as he dragged his fingertips from her knee up her thigh, sending shivers up her spine. Another moan escaped her lips and she looked into his eyes with a hungry, heated stare.

He smirked at that look and if her hands weren't occupied tugging his shirt out of the waistbands of his jeans, she would have hit him.

Puck slowly slid his hand further up her thigh. Like a stealthy intruder his hand squeezed her ass, caressing its roundness and sliding over her gentle curves.

He let his hand wander between her legs and encountered velvety wetness.

He lightly traced the outline of her lips that were swelling with excitement. He let his finger slide between them, breaking the surface of the pool of her juices, and dragged it upward until he came into contact with her rigid clit.

Rachel was barely breathing now with her head tilted slightly back, her tongue pressed softly against her upper lip and her eyes closed, lost in that place where you didn't care if you ever came, because you didn't ever want the feeling to stop.

His fingers were now drenched and in one motion he stopped stroking her clit and slid three fingers deep into her. Without him having to piston his fingers at all, her muscles contracted around his hand and she moaned his name again.

He looked at her, astonished. She'd virtually just cum on anticipation alone. He couldn't wait any longer.

He dropped back to his knees and lifted one leg over his shoulder, breathing in her scent again; a wonderfully feminine musk now mingled with the scent of strawberries. The aroma was more appetizing than anything he had ever smelled and it was all he could do not to plunge in and devour her.

His tongue parted her lips and he licked his was up to her clit. It stood proud and shiny, beckoning his touch. He licked around it with an intense pressure then backed off, lighting teasing it with his tongue. He continued this process for another minute and finally Rachel was begging him to stop teasing her.

"Please," she moaned breathlessly, "Please, I can't take any more of this or I'll start screaming." She curled her fingers in his hair and forced him to look into her eyes. They were filled with lust, smouldering and pleading with him, but he hadn't tortured her nearly enough.

He wanted her out of her _fucking__mind_.

He plunged his face back into her pussy, his hands cupping her voluptuous ass and pulling her to him. Puck ground his tongue into her clit, flicking it hard and then biting softly at the tender hood. When her squirming made the task too difficult, he licked the entire length of her slit in long lapping strokes and tongued her opening.

"_Noaaaaaahhhhhhh_."

He'd been right. He _could_ make her scream.

Puck's eyes flicked up to check on her and the sight of Rachel squeezing her own tits and twisting her nipples had him pause.

_That was fucking hot._

It was time.

He licked her again in one slow, agonizing stroke, from asshole to clit and she clenched his head with her thighs. He covered her clit with his mouth and sucked hard as she writhed in pleasure, moaning and crying out his name.

Finally, when he thought his tongue would cramp from over-exertion, she arched her back and let out a loud wail. She bit her lip to keep from screaming again and her body shook forcefully with the strength of her release.

Puck stopped his ferocious attack and as her body sank back into the seat, he relaxed his grip on her ass. Slowly with languid licks he brought her down.

With a final squeeze of her thigh, he lifted his head and drank in the sight of her, her face flushed and lolling to the side. Rachel pressed her cheek into the cushion as she twitched, the aftershocks of her orgasm pleasantly rocking her body.

He pushed himself up and leant over her boneless frame. Intending on giving her no time to recover, he slanted his mouth over hers and delved in, making sure she was assaulted by the taste of herself on his tongue until muffled talking outside the room intruded in on their interlude.

Rachel had broken the kiss and pulled back, her head tilting as she listened intently. When the talking became clearer – whoever it was was heading closer to her dressing room- she suddenly pushed Puck off her and leapt up on unsteady legs, frantically reaching for the robe hanging on the back of her chair as the door swung open and the person on the other side waltzed in with out an invitation.

A short, raven haired beauty stopped short at the sight of Rachel's bare derrière, before she'd pulled on her robe and cinched the strap tight around her waist,

The intruder's glance darted from a frazzled Rachel to Puck, the latter was burrowing comfortably back on the couch cushions, his impressive erection blatantly obvious and pressing against his jeans.

Rachel shot him a glare and he shrugged. What could he do? Whoever this chick was, she knew exactly what she'd walked in on. There was no point in hiding it.

"Well, well, well." The girl drawled, a slow grin spreading across her pretty face. "What do we have here?" She gave Puck a thorough once over, lingering on his crotch before turning a triumphant gaze to Rachel.

"And here we were thinking your hubby was the only Weitzmann auditioning hotties on the casting room couch." She drawled nastily.

Rachel flushed and Puck leaned back as he processed what had just been insinuated.

_The douche bag had been fucking around on her?_

When he thought about it, it kind of made sense. Not that her husband would cheat on her, no; the dude was fucking retarded for thinking he could bag someone hotter than Rachel. It was just that, the one thing that had bothered Puck since their night together was not knowing _why_ she had forgone her marriage vows and fallen into bed with him.

Even after everything that had happened, a quality he associated with Rachel above anything else was loyalty and had someone asked him whether he thought her capable of cheating on her spouse, before all this had gone down, his answer would have been a definite _no__fucking__way._

But if her dick of a hubby was out screwing stick figured wanna-be actresses, Puck could see how she might justify her own indiscretion.

"Chloe," Rachel started, her tone steady. "What you saw-"

Chloe laughed, a high pitched sound equally as irritating as nails on a chalk board that effectively cut off Rachel's hastily thought up explanation.

"Oh sweetie, don't try and deny that you and Mr. Tall, Dark and Gorgeous here were anything but two seconds away from funky town."

Rachel glanced at Puck and sighed. He looked thoroughly aroused and she could only imaged how debauched her own reflection would be. "I won't, but I'd appreciate it if you kept this to yourself." Even as the words left her mouth Rachel knew she was kidding herself to think Chloe could be trusted to keep the secret.

As it was, Chloe was already shaking her head. "Oh no, this is just too juicy to keep under wraps." She announced, tossing her pixie haircut and jutting her hip out as she cast a smouldering look in Puck's direction.

He acted on instinct and winked at the younger girl; Rachel's fingers itched to throw something at him.

Rachel sighed. She could see that nothing she said could convince Chloe to mind her own business. That left bargaining or blackmail and unfortunately, she had nothing on the younger girl. "What will it take to keep you quiet Chloe?" She ventured with dread, already anticipating the answer.

Chloe was nothing if not ruthless and she would use this information and ask for the moon, knowing that if Rachel wanted to keep her affair with Noah on the down low she could do nothing but comply with her demands.

"I want you to fall deathly ill next weekend. So overcome with exhaustion and nausea you can't possibly take the stage" Chloe announced with a malicious smile, after taking a minute to ponder her options.

Rachel went white, her eyes widening. She'd been expecting just that, but still, she was shocked at the girl's gumption.

Her stomach dropped. "It's the closing weekend," she protested numbly. "Two shows on Saturday, two on Sunday. Chloe, you're the understudy. Be honest, you can't possibly think you could pull off the role of Velma on a cold run. You haven't taken the lead once this season."

Chloe's face contorted with anger and Puck sat forward, watching the exchange with invested interest.

"And whose fault is that?" She screeched hotly. "Every other actress has taken time off and let their understudy step up, except for you! You're such a control freak, you couldn't take one night off in 11 months! One night!"

Rachel begged her to lower her voice and held up her hands in surrender, "You're right Chloe." She placated, soothingly. "I should have taken time off. Perhaps you can do the Tuesday and Wednesday shows instead?" She tried to compromise.

"No." Chloe spat, fixated on her prize. "I will play Velma on the finale weekend or I'm placing a call through to the _Broadway__Times_ and your little tryst here with hunky? Front page news. I imagine your husband wouldn't take too kindly to a scandal of that magnitude, would he?"

_No he would not._

She shook her head, her throat tight. "Fine."

Chloe smiled, "You made the right choice."

Rachel tried vainly to keep her composure. "I didn't really have one though, did I?"

The other girl looked at her and for a second, Rachel swore her smile slipped and a sliver of remorse shine in her vibrant indigo eyes. It was gone in an instant. "Well, I'll leave you two lovebirds in peace. Remember: No glove, no love." She preached sassily, turning on her heel and tossing them one last smirk over her shoulder.

"What a little bitch." Puck swore when she had gone, getting to his feet and crossing to stand in front of Rachel who was still staring unseeingly at the door.

"You ok?"

A single tear slipped down her cheek and he moved to brush it away but Rachel stepped back, shaking her head.

"Ok?" she choked, feeling the tears spill over in earnest now. "How can I be ok Noah? I've just been blackmailed!"

Puck shoved his hands in his pockets, "It's just one weekend." He grumbled, not really getting it. "As the skank said, you haven't had a day off in over a year!"

Rachel stared at him until he shifted uncomfortably. "It's not just one weekend Noah. It's the culmination of everything I've been working for over the last year and a half. The rehearsals, the vocal training, the dance training, the hours, the blood the sweat…" she ranted. "All the shows in the world don't mean anything if you aren't up on stage for that final standing ovation. It should be me up there and instead it will be Chloe, and for what?"

Her wet eyes were shining brightly with indignation, "A couple of mind blowing orgasms and a good fuck? I knew this was a mistake, I knew it!" She shook her head and turned away, sniffing and wiping at her cheeks.

He felt bad. Ok, so maybe he felt fucking wretched. She had every right to be pissed, but he couldn't deny her flippant remark had cut. _A__couple__of__orgasms__and__a__fuck?_ That's all this was?

_What__did__you__think__it__was__asshole__**?**_ He berated himself. It's not like he was operating under any illusion that they were meant to be, like soul mates or some shit. She was just a really, really good lay.

Like phenomenal.

He'd actually found himself moping around the garage these last few weeks, listening to _James__Morrison_ for fucks sake and like, _missing__her_.

And that was ridiculous right?

Rachel Berry was all sorts of crazy, she always had been. He just had to get her out of his system, which what coming here tonight had been all about. He figured he'd have her one more time and then the feeling would be gone and they could part amicably.

Puck hadn't figured her career could actually suffer because of it. _Because__of__him_.

"I'm sorry Rach." He found himself saying awkwardly, reaching out to pull her into his arms.

She held her body stiff as he held her close, trying to comfort her as best he could.

"Can I do anything?"

Rachel pushed out of his embrace. 'I think you've done enough." She answered quietly. "Can you just go?"

Puck just stood there; he didn't want to leave her. He didn't want to leave things like this between them. Not when he couldn't be sure Rachel would ever want to see him again. And that thought? Not seeing her again? That left an ache in his gut he just couldn't explain away.

"Rach-"

She just shook her head, refusing to look at him.

"Please Noah. I can't do this._I__can't_. You have to go."

He hesitated and then nodded, an action her down turned gaze failed to catch.

"Ok." He agreed finally. "But-" He stopped. _But__what?_ She was right, He'd done enough damage here. He had to leave her alone.

He didn't bother to say goodbye, it had sucked enough the last time they'd tried it. He couldn't even allow himself a final lingering glance at her profile as he strode out of her dressing room and through the near empty theatre.

_He__needed__a__fucking__drink._ He needed top shelf fucking scotch.

He walked into the first bar he saw and ordered a double, plunking himself onto a stool and downing the glass in one gulp, ignoring the sweet burn as the liquid slid down his throat.

_Better_, he decided.

He ordered another and stood, taking his glass across the crowded room and stood by a wall, looking up at the house band as they attempted to play an INXS classic. Pretty soon his disinterested gaze strayed to a wall of posters, lining the way to the bathrooms.

Immediately his eyes were drawn to a large advertisement for Chicago and sure enough, just like the billboard he'd seen in Times Square, Rachel's name was printed neatly in large letters near the bottom.

There was no escaping her. She was a fucking Broadway superstar. The darling on the New York social scene, her picture was _always_ in the paper. A glaring fucking reminder of what most definitely could never be his.

The infuriating part was (aside from the fact that Puck didn't have her) Mr Big-Shot fucking producer, the guy that had been married to her for fucking years, apparently didn't really _know_ her.

'Little glee club' he'd said.

_Pfft._

Clearly he wasn't acquainted with the _real_ Rachel Berry, the one who'd washed slushies out of her hair every damn day and continued to strut proudly through the halls between the sea of fucking losers that condemned her for her crazy eccentricities.

It was so fucking frustrating to see her living the dream she had worked so hard for and suffered through so much torment to obtain, only to have that confidence he'd once thought unwavering, shaken by the man who professed to love her the most.

As Puck had told her, her husband was the one person who was always supposed to be in her corner; supporting her and making sure his first fucking priority was her happiness and well being. The way husband and wife had interacted just didn't sit right with Puck and not for the first time since he set eyes on Rachel Berry again last month, he found himself wishing things were different; that they were different.

Michael Weitzmann was a prize fucking putz and he didn't deserve her.

Problem was, Puck hadn't appreciated her when she'd been his either.

But he'd been a boy then and it had only been one week in sophomore year. He was a man now, yet it looked like he'd never be given another opportunity with her. Any chance he might have had was stolen from him by a nosy fucking bitch who he'd bet was going to become the laughing stock of the theatre world when she failed spectacularly at stepping into Rachel's shoes.

And she would fail, he was sure of it. But her suckiness wouldn't give Rachel her finale weekend or him his second shot with the petite brunette, who he was only just beginning to realize was more than simply a one night stand he couldn't shake.

There was a reason he'd had an itch under his skin this last month; it wasn't something that would have soothed itself had he got to fuck her a second time.

He knew with utter certainty that Rachel Berry would be haunting him long after the posters and billboards had been torn down and replaced and he didn't have the first clue as to what he could do about it.


	4. Take a bow

**Lesson of the day: Childrenarehardwork. I love my nieces, I do. But how their mother copes with a 3 years old, a 2 years old AND the joys of being 6 months pregnant with baby number 3, I'll NEVER know. To all the mothers out there- I salute you!**

Rachel was lying in bed mid morning the following Saturday, sniffling into covers that were pulled right up over her head. This self-indulgent melancholy was unlike her, but after several unsuccessful attempts to reason with Chloe during the week, she had only just begun to reconcile the fact that come 8pm that night, when the curtain went up, the spotlight would not be focused on her- and that realization was breaking her heart.

She couldn't bring herself to think about him, about Noah. To wonder how he felt when he left her that last time in her dressing room. She knew her words would have stung, hurting him more than he would allow himself to show, but she couldn't let it concern her. Unfortunately, he wasn't hers to consider.

She felt nauseous. All week the bile had been building up in her throat as she schooled her features and drew on thousands of acting lessons and four years at Julliard spent perfecting her cues and responses, in order to project an air of normality.

Rachel felt like she was walking in a mine field and at any moment her betrayal would be discovered and everything she'd been working toward would be lost in the blink of an eye. And it would be lost, that much she was certain. Her husband Michael had a monopolizing influence on almost every director and casting agent on Broadway, he had the entire industry eating out of his palm. If Michael found out about her infidelity, her career was over- he'd make sure the only job she could get on Broadway was at Ellen's Stardust Diner. He was ruthless like that and Rachel Berry, well she just wasn't cut out for waitressing.

Rachel refused to let that happen to her. So though it had caused her actual physical pain to make the call that morning, convincing her director that she was suffering an acute case of strep throat and there was no possible way she could take the stage that weekend, she had done it.

If her director had been angry, Michael had been apoplectic; stalking into the Master bedroom minutes later after receiving the news via a text message and dragging her from the same bed she was cocooned in now. Her husband pushed her roughly toward the bathroom with a strength she didn't know he possessed and demanded she pull herself together because she _would_ be taking her place in that final curtain call.

There had been nothing fake about her hysterical tears as he pulled hard on her hair and pressed her against the bathroom vanity, his thunderous face merely an inch from her own. It wasn't until she had succumbed to the bile building up in her throat and had huddled over the toilet for the better half of an hour, pale and shaking, that he left her, slamming the door on his way out of the apartment without another word.

Rachel was replaying the confrontation in her head when the covers were yanked unceremoniously away from her, a scream of fright from the suddenness of the action bubbled up in her throat.

Kurt dropped the duvet on the floor and stood next to the bed, one hand resting on a jutted out hip as his eyes ran over her tangled locks and red, splotchy complexion.

"Well you're not dead." He remarked casually, one sandy eyebrow arching as he pursed his pink lips.

Rachel glared at him as her heart thudded painfully fast in her chest.

"What are you doing here?"

"I received a typically abrasive phone call from your beloved this morning," he answered as he smoothed a hand over the jacket he was wearing, a piece Rachel recognized from his own collection. "He demanded I march my fabulously toned behind over here and ensure you get to the theatre no later than 1 o'clock, which gives me," Kurt consulted his watch, "an hour and a half to make you semi-presentable and work some magic on the crow's nest you call hair."

Rachel rolled over, "Don't bother," she muttered, drawing the pillow over her head. "I'm not going. I'm sick."

Kurt was silent for a moment as he contemplated his best friend. She was sick? He fought the urge to laugh. "Yes I heard-strep throat. Funny, your voice sounds fine to me.

Kurt reached out and snatched the pillow away, exposing her face to his view.

"I'm not buying it," he informed her, unable to keep amusement from lacing his tone as she glowered at him. "Diva, when you were a chorus girl in My Fair Lady you performed 8 shows in a row, vomiting backstage in a bucket between scenes before I managed to bully you into the emergency room. There we discovered you had gall stones the size of tennis balls yet you refused to have the surgery and STILL managed to perform in the Sunday matinee the next day. So how about you tell me what's _really_ going on?"

With a heavy sigh, Rachel gazed up at him with watery brown eyes. "Kurt, I've done something foolish; I've jeopardized everything I have worked so hard to accomplish – my life, my career." Her lower lip trembled and her voice caught in her throat. In a split second, he had seated himself on the bed beside her, encouraging her to sit up and lean against the headboard.

Rachel Berry-Weitzmann was no crier, so the fact that she was lying in bed at 11:30 am on a Saturday with tear stained cheeks and next to no motivation when usually she was a whirlwind of activity, screamed crisis to him.

"Tell me," he invited gently, none of the usual biting sarcasm present in his tone.

Her eyes flickered to the door.

"He's not here," Kurt assured her. "He said he would be at the theatre later, he had another meeting beforehand."

She gave an unladylike snort and the pair exchanged knowing glances. Michael's 'meetings' usually consisted of 15 minute casting calls in his office, where a budding actress's talent was measured in how well she managed to suck (or ride) his cock.

"Well?"

"I slept with Noah." She admitted quietly, her gaze dropping to her pajama-clad legs as she waited for Kurt's reaction.

"Noah? As in Noah Puckerman?" Kurt clarified. She ventured to look at him from under lowered lashes and saw that his blue eyes had widened comically. If she wasn't so drained, she would have laughed.

She nodded instead and he took a moment to digest this information. Finally he asked, "Well, how was it?"

Rachel rolled her eyes in exasperation. "Really Kurt? I tell you I acted with a blatant disregard for my marriage vows and that's all you can ask? How was it?"

Kurt smirked, "Honey, you haven't had an orgasm in _years_, can you blame me for being curious?"

"I've had an orgasm." She protested with a glare.

"Really?" he asked sceptically. "One you didn't give yourself?"

She blushed and Kurt laughed. "That's what I thought. So, how was it?"

She took her time answering and when she did, finally, it was with a small smile. "Do you remember the rumors from high school, about Noah's sexual expertise?"

Kurt nodded rapidly, his head moving up and down like a bobble headed doll.

"They were true? He's really that good?" he asked eagerly.

Rachel bit her lip as the color flooded her cheeks. "Better." She answered breathily and Kurt swooned.

"You lucky bitch." He said snarkily, his envy palpable. "I want details."

So she told him and after Rachel had detailed what had transpired between them in Puck's hotel room the night they'd all gone out for drinks together and then the encounter in her dressing room the week before when they were caught in the act, Kurt flopped back on the bed and stared at the ceiling in shock. "Sweet Prada, I cannot believe you've managed to keep this from me."

They sat in a comfortable silence as Kurt absorbed what he'd just been told. After he'd entertained himself for a few minutes, dreamily picturing a naked Noah Puckerman in all his masculine glory, he rolled to his side so he was facing her, his head propped up on his hand.

"So Chloe thinks she can blackmail you and take your part in exchange for her silence? Sweets, you can't seriously let her get away with this," he said sombrely.

"I have no choice. I tried to reason with her, but she refuses to be swayed. If I don't allow her take my place this weekend she's taking my affair with Noah to the papers." There was a slight tinge of hysteria in her voice and Kurt patted her hand soothingly.

"Yes, but what's to stop that anorexic bitch from telling all after this weekend anyway? She'll be able to use this information against you indefinitely, knowing how much you'll sacrifice to buy her silence."

"Perhaps," Rachel agreed. "But it's a risk I can't afford to take."

"Why Rachel? Why not tell Michael yourself? What's the worst that can happen? He divorces you?" Kurt's lip curled up at that. He had failed to support the marriage from the very beginning when Michael had not allowed Kurt to stand up with Rachel during the ceremony, acting as a sort of Man of Honour, like she'd wanted. Kurt and Michael had only just tolerated each other before that - since then, relations had been frosty at best.

Kurt had tried not to verbalize his disdain for Rachel's sake, but as the years wore on and he saw his friend lose the best parts of herself to the man she had married, the urge to speak out grew stronger.

Rachel sighed. "He'll take my career, you know that don't you?" She said seriously. "If Michael ever found out about Noah, that would be it for me. I'd never work again."

Kurt was unconvinced, "Surely that's an exaggeration. You have so many contacts-"

"Through Michael." Rachel interrupted. "You know as well as I do Kurt, that when Michael and I started dating, we were both virtually unknown in theatre circles. It's only once I starred in his off-Broadway hit Music Maker that either of us were taken seriously at all. Since then, he's built this empire on tenacity alone," she gestured around the large bedroom and by extension, the large penthouse apartment that she and her husband called home.

He read the self-doubt in her eyes and he wondered, not for the first time, whatever happened to that unfailing certainty she'd had when she was younger, that her name would headline the Great White Way- that she was _meant_ for stardom.

Kurt squeezed her hand. "You made it here on your own talent Diva. Even without Michael, you'd still be the talk of the town." He assured her.

At Kurt's words, Rachel couldn't help but remember Puck's statement from the week before.

**"**_**It**____**seems**____**to**____**me,**____**that**____**as**____**your**____**husband**____**he'd**____**know**____**better**____**than**____**anyone**____**that**____**yes,**____**there**____**are**____**thousands**____**of**____**other**____**actresses,**____**but**____**there's**____**only**____**one**____**fucking**____**Rachel**____**Berry**_**."** he'd said. _**"It's**____**his**____**job**____**to**____**believe**____**that**____**you're**____**better**____**than**____**them,**____**because**____**you**____**are."**_

At the time she assumed he was saying such things simply to get into her pants (which may have been the case) but Noah had spoken with such conviction, like he _truly_believed that there was no one whose talent could surpass her own. Like Kurt, he thought she was deserving of all her successes.

Rachel couldn't remember if Michael had ever held that same confidence in her- a realization that both surprised and saddened her.

She shook the thought away, "I wish that were true, but the fact of the matter is I fought tooth and nail for every role, even as I shamelessly used every contact and favor Michael had at his disposal. Without him…" she trailed off, taking a deep breath.

Kurt was troubled. He had a sneaking suspicion that Rachel hadn't reached that conclusion by herself and feared he had underestimated the beating her self-esteem had taken. He wanted to say more, but the absolute defeat in her eyes had him bite his tongue. Now wasn't the time.

"So what are we going to do about Chloe then?" He pondered, keeping her small hand tucked in his. She smiled gratefully at him, aware that he had intentionally changed the subject and thankful for his astuteness- she wasn't ready to talk any more about Michael, not when she was still trying to make sense of his brutish display that morning.

"You mean short of pushing her down a flight of stairs?" she asked innocently, her smile more genuine now.

"Yes," Kurt grinned back at her, "That might be taking the 'break a leg' thing a step too far. But," he continued, a maniacal gleam in his bright blue eyes as he thought over plausible scenarios. "If, like you say, there's no reasoning with her, we have to come up with a plan. There's got to be something we can do to ensure she's not fit to take the stage. "

Rachel consulted the clock. "Well unless we lock her in a storage closet, we can't prevent her from performing in the matinee.' A frown tugged on her lips. "So we have just over seven hours until the 8 o'clock show. How are we going to incapacitate her?"

Kurt pursed his lips and turned his gaze on her. "You know," he drawled slowly, "I think I have an idea."

Rachel stood by the entrance to the subway, restlessly waiting for Kurt who had disappeared into an apartment building across the road 15 minutes before. She lifted her hair off the nape of her neck and took another sip of her iced tea, cursing the late summer heat. Just when she was certain heatstroke was setting in, the man in question appeared, triumphantly holding a paper bag above his head as he darted through the throng of pedestrians and made it to her side.

"Got it!" he told her with smug satisfaction, linking his arm through hers and steering her towards 42nd street. "Let's go."

"Are you sure this is going to work?" She asked anxiously as they walked swiftly to their destination.

Kurt shrugged, "It's the only plan we have. You just have to commit to your role and hopefully the rest," he shook the mysterious bag, "will take care of itself."

Upon arrival at the theatre, Rachel adopted her most deathly ill expression, coughing and spluttering and seeming to sway on the spot as various cast mates and crew stopped her to lament over her inability to perform and wish her a speedy recovery.

Leaning against Kurt's shoulder, she accepted their well wishes and forced herself to sound hoarse as she made the appropriate responses. She was engrossed in the role of sick patient when her eyes met Michael's across the room.

He was standing off to the side, scrutinizing her every movement and Rachel felt herself shrink back from the intensity of his gaze, clutching Kurt's arm a little tighter. He followed her line of sight and grimaced, leading her backstage with a firm grip to her elbow.

"Don't think about him," Kurt instructed calmly. "Once you're back up on stage tonight and New York's elite are writing checks for his next big production- congratulating him on having such a gorgeous, talented wife- he'll lose that constipated expression."

Rachel paused as Kurt opened the door to her (_now__Chloe's_) dressing room. "He was so angry this morning." She confided in a small voice, absently rubbing her wrist through her sweater. "I've never seen him so irate."

Kurt's eyes dropped to the spot she was rubbing and he fought he urge to yank the sleeve up to inspect her skin, a nasty suspicion taking root that he might find it puffy and bruised. Rachel and Michael were always fighting but she had always insisted that their arguments had never turned physical. Kurt wondered if that had changed. He leant forward and pressed his lips against her temple, temporarily ignoring the sheen of tears in chocolate gaze as her eyes flew to his in surprise.

If his suspicions were correct, there would be hell to pay. He would deal with Michael Weitzmann later. For now, they had work to do.

Rachel watched as Kurt opened the paper sack and withdrew a small zip lock bag.

Her eyes darted nervously between the door and her friend who was tea spooning crushed powder from the bag into a mug.

"You're sure this is safe?" she clarified, not for the first time since Kurt had outlined his plan.

"Completely," he answered patiently, flicking the kettle on to boil as he dropped a herbal teabag into the mug to camouflage the contents "I told you, all the supermodels are using this stuff at the moment to quickly drop the pounds before a big runway show."

"It's a natural laxative. The dosage I'm giving her is extreme, but it will have no lasting side effects. In approximately four hours, Chloe will start to experience intense cramping and then she'll have no option but to spend the next 12-24 hours in the vicinity of the bathroom." Kurt chuckled.

Rachel wrinkled her nose in disgust; she wished there was a slightly less disgusting alternate.

She opened her mouth to once again question his plan when the door was flung wide open. Chloe stopped short as she caught sight of both Rachel and Kurt in the room. Giving them a wary look, she sidestepped towards the far wall, as if she feared they were literally going to stab her in the back at any moment.

"What are you doing here?" She demanded shrilly, staring daggers at Rachel.

Rachel adopted her most non-threatening smile and stood, closing the door to any potential eavesdroppers. "I came to wish you good luck," she said with a sincerity that had even Kurt blinking in surprise. "I imagine you must be nervous, so I thought I'd have a pre-show cup of tea with you and see if I can help alleviate any fears you might have about the shows today."

Disbelief flashed across the younger girls face. "You came to wish me luck?" she scoffed, lifting her chin. "I don't need luck. My performance will be flawless and tomorrow the critics will be writing that it should have been me playing Velma Kelly all along."

Her voice wavered and Rachel could see the tension in the set of her shoulders. She felt herself soften at the girl's demonstrable vulnerability but caught herself just in time, reminding herself that feeling sorry for this particular girl was the last thing she should be doing.

"Chloe, its okay to be nervous you know." she stated gently, crossing to the girl's side and drawing her over towards the two seater sofa. As Rachel sank back against the cushions she realized the last time she had been seated in this same position, it was with Noah's dark head between her thighs. She felt a faint blush tinging her cheeks when her mind conjured up the image and she cleared her throat, trying vainly to banish the recollection from her mind.

"It might interest you to know that I too suffer a bout of nerves each and every time I prepare to take the stage."

Chloe regarded her sceptically, "Really? But you always seem so calm."

Rachel laughed lightly, her eyes flickering almost indiscernibly in Kurt's direction, "Well I would, wouldn't I? I'm an actress, it's my job to commit to an emotion and convince people of my sincerity."

The other girl took her time in digesting this piece of information. "So how do you deal with it then? The stress and the stage fright?" she asked hesitantly.

At that moment, Kurt came over with two steaming mugs off tea. He handed Rachel her pink mug with gold stars without meeting her gaze, not wanting to risk giving anything away.

Rachel pushed aside any unease she had with the situation and fixed Chloe with another smile, "I lock myself in my dressing room, drink a cup of tea to soothe my vocal chords and then run through a set of breathing exercises. It helps me relax. I can do it with you if you like?"

Chloe smiled, "That would be great, thank you!"

Rachel just nodded, ignoring the stab of guilt she felt at seeing the gratitude in the younger girl's eyes. This was the same girl that was blackmailing her, the one who could use the information she had and sweep Rachel's career from directly under her feet - she couldn't afford to feel anything other that contempt for her rival.

"You're welcome. Now, drink your tea while I run through a few pieces in the choreography I think potentially may cause you trouble."

Later, Kurt and Rachel watched the 2pm performance from the balcony, cringing when Chloe failed to hit a high F on three separate occasions and faltered in the lead up to a lift, forcing her dancing partner, Antwon, to improvise with a spin and dip that looked awkward at best.

Hours later, Chloe was looked into a stall in the cast bathroom, crying and groaning as the effects of the laxative racked her petite frame.

"Rachel! Rachel!" The girl was shrieking through her tears.

Rachel pushed through the group made up of dancers and crew members loitering around the hall outside the bathroom, fixing them with reproachful looks until they all reluctantly departed.

"Chloe?" She called out as she stuck her head in the door. "Are you alright?" The worry in her tone was authentic. She hoped whatever they had slipped her would be out of her system by the next day.

"No," the girl sobbed, the sound echoing off the tiles. "I-I can't go on tonight. I'm too ill."

"Oh, Chloe," she murmured with practiced concern. "Can I call you a doctor? What can I do?"

Chloe sniffed. "You have to go on in my place tonight. I can't possibly perform like this." Rachel smiled triumphantly at the closed toilet stall door_.__It__worked._

"It's only six o'clock." Rachel reminded her, crossing her fingers for luck. "Maybe you'll be fine by curtain call and-"

"I won't be." Chloe predicted miserably. "And even if I am, I don't belong up there."

Rachel stayed silent as the sniffling continued from behind the closed door.

"I'm so sorry Rachel. I should never have tried to blackmail you into letting me perform today. I was horrible."

Rachel sighed. "You weren't horrible." She assured her. Rachel knew only to well the intense pressure the performers put on themselves and that underlying feeling that no matter how well the show went, it just wasn't good enough.

"I was," Chloe contradicted her. "I feel like this is Karma for me trying to take this weekend away from you." Rachel felt the sweat break out on her forehead at the offhand comment. It wasn't Karma, just her and Kurt, and some high-potency laxatives. "I don't know what I was thinking, believing I could just step in and no one would notice. You should have heard the things people were saying about me."

Rachel_had_ heard and she winced sympathetically. She could only imagine the comments the cast and crew had been making throughout the show. They were a tight knit group, but the industry was notoriously harsh and in their world there just wasn't room for empty acclamations. The audience had given Chloe a lukewarm applause at the end - a stark contrast to the standing ovation they had given Sophia, the woman that portrayed Roxie Hart. Chloe must be devastated.

"It's my fault." Rachel found herself taking responsibility, leaning back against the counter. "You were right in what you said last week. I should have taken a few shows off, let you step in for me. You've worked hard all season and you deserved your shot up there. If I had have given you that opportunity the show this afternoon would have gone a lot better. I'm sorry."

Chloe was crying in earnest now, pressing her knees together as her stomach rolled. "I'm the one who should be sorry. Your personal business is none of my concern. I should never have tried to use that against you. I don't want to be that kind of person, I want to make it on my own talent."

"You will," Rachel promised her, stepping closer to the door and resting her palm against the wood. "You need a little bit of help with your vocals," she admitted, "but you are a superb dancer. You have a bright future ahead of you, don't think for one second you don't."

"Thank you." Chloe replied softly, pressing her hands against her cramping abdominals. "You should go and tell Martin you're feeling better."

Rachel hesitated, "You'll be alright?"

"I just want to be alone."

Rachel sighed, "Ok. I'll be back to check on you in a little while."

As she was walking out of the bathroom, Chloe's voice stopped her.

"Rachel?"

She stopped with her hand on the door and turned her face towards the stall. "Yes?"

"Go be amazing. The applause, the encores, the accolades- you earned all of that. Knock them dead."

And she did.

As she stood on stage that night and the following day for the finale performances, soaking in the thunderous applause and accepting the numerous bunches of flowers presented to her, her smile lit up the entire theatre. Rachel knew that her performance was flawless, that she had poured every emotion into her songs and executed her dance moves seamlessly; for the first time in a long time, she felt like the star she'd always set out to be.

She just wondered why, as she took her final bow, she thought of Noah.

Puck pushed the shirt off her shoulders as he kissed her roughly, his tongue plundering the warm recesses of her mouth while his hands busied themselves at the waistband of her skirt, tugging at the zipper and allowing the material to pool around her feet.

He broke away and pushed her onto the bed, yanking his t-shirt over his head. "I'm going to fuck you so hard." He promised huskily, a feral smile curving his full lips. Her dark eyes met his and she shivered in anticipation, unclasping her bra and sliding her panties down her long, tanned legs.

She lay in wait while he shed his jeans, gulping when his boxer shorts were quickly discarded and his thick, erect cock sprung free. He held her gaze and stroked his shaft with a firm grip.

"Hands and knees." Puck demanded and she jumped at the authoritative tone, flopping over onto her stomach and propping herself with a pillow underneath her elbows. He reached into his nightstand for a condom and hurriedly tore open the foil wrapper, expertly rolling the latex over his hard length. Hooking his palms around her thighs, he hauled her over to the edge of the bed and stood behind her, giving her left ass cheek a stinging slap as he rubbed his cock in between her wet folds.

She moaned and his hands spanned her trim waist, holding her steady when she attempted to push back against him. "Do you want this baby?" he taunted, letting the tip of his dick tease her entrance. He laughed when she made a sound of strangled frustration.

"Yes!" she keened, tossing her hair and looking pleadingly at him over her shoulder. "Please."

He kept one hand on her waist and the other tangled in her hair. Jerking firmly on her dark strands, he pushed her face down into the quilt- he found he couldn't even look at her. "Tell me how much you want it." He demanded, his fingers digging into her hips with a punishing firmness that was sure to leave bruises.

"Oh god,' she whimpered, throbbing with need and desperate to have him inside her. She grabbed a fist full of bed spread as she leaned further forward, wiggling her ass enticingly. "Fast. Fuck me Puck, fuck me hard."

It was an invitation he wasted no time in accepting and he entered her in one smooth motion, sheathing himself to the hilt. They moaned in unison as her inner walls stretched to accommodate him and without pause, he immediately began to set a rough rhythm, pistoning his hips in and out.

"Yes!Yes!Yes!" she chanted on repeat, her cries getting progressively louder.

Puck grimaced at the sound; she was ruining it. Her voice was too sharp, the pitch not at all melodic. He changed the angle and the force of his next thrust had her tipping forward, her face pressing into the pillow. _Better._ His breath was ragged and hot as it tickled her spine. "Just take it. You love it my cock don't cha? Take it all." The pillow muffled her moans, and he adjusted his grip on her hips. The slapping sound of his balls repeatedly hitting the soft skin on her thighs ricocheted around the room as he continued to pound into her, her breasts bouncing in rhythm with his movements.

He felt the familiar tingle that signalled he was close and though he didn't particular care whether she came or not, he grudgingly realized he'd never left a woman hanging before and wasn't about to start now.

Puck cupped one of her breasts and squeezed roughly, pinching and pulling at her nipple. She arched her back with a low moan, pushing her breasts into his hand as her ass bounced, slamming backwards and meeting him thrust for thrust. A few squeezes later his hand skimmed over her flat stomach and his fingers found her clit, rubbing and stroking until he felt her tighten around his cock.

With a few more urgent strokes and her pussy pulsating around him, he found his own release and tugged again at her silky brown tresses. _"Rachel."_the name was pulled from his lips in a guttural groan, and he slumped against the warm body below him, spent. After catching his breath, he held the condom in place and slipped out of her, rolling onto his side and grabbing a wad of tissues from the box on the bedside table.

She brushed the hair away from her face and flipped onto her back, taking a moment to admire his muscular form as he disposed of the condom and wiped the sweat from his brow with his forearm. "Who's Rachel?" She asked conversationally as she scooted back to rest against the headboard. She ought to be offended she supposed, and she might have been had he not just given her the most intense orgasm of her life. She hardly had any cause for complaint.

At the question, Puck turned his head in her direction and stared at her broodingly. His eyes ran over her naked form, taking in the highlights; her heaving breasts and the glistening pink lips of her sex, exposed to his view as she sat with her legs bent at the knees. She shivered in delight as he appraised her, but when his gaze captured hers she saw his eyes were hard and cold.

"We're done here." He informed her harshly. "Door's that way." He made a gesture with his thumb and reached for his pants.

"Wh-what?" she stammered, with an uncertain smile. Surely she was hearing him wrong?

Puck met her gaze and smirked, "Look, you were great," he complimented, "but I'm not interested in a repeat. You can go now."

Her dark eyes narrowed and she slipped off the bed, hurriedly reaching for her clothes, "You're an asshole," she spat as she dressed with jerky movements.

Puck shrugged indifferently, "So they say." He held open the bedroom door and trailed behind her as she practically ran to the door, wrenching it open and almost colliding with the attractive blonde who had just inserted a key into the lock.

The two women stared at each other until Pucks voice broke the silence, "Hey babe, you're home late." He commented casually.

The blonde hid her grimace at the endearment and arched her eyebrow at the brunette, scornfully taking in her sexed up appearance. "Geez Puck, I hope you at least brought this one a drink first." She snarked, brushing past the other woman and dumping her bag onto the sofa.

The brunette gaped at them and when a hurt expression stole over her pretty face, Puck felt a tiny slither of guilt. Then she was gone.

"You're such a man whore," the blonde said, rolling her eyes after the departing woman. "She looked devastated, what did you say to her?"

Puck brushed off the question and followed her into the kitchen. "Seriously kid, you _are_ home late. Where have you been?"

"Sorry _dad_," she replied sarcastically, "I went and saw a movie. Thought you could entertain yourself in my absence and clearly I was right." She tossed her head in the direction of the door that Pucks 'guest' had departed through.

Puck fixed his younger sister with a stern look. Rebecca was 17 going on 30, with an attitude that rivalled his own, when he'd been younger and at his most obnoxious.

"Look Becca, you know I don't do the whole responsible shit so well, but the one rule I have is that you tell me where you're going and what the fuck you're doing. Ma would lose her shit if she knew you were out all night and I didn't have a fucking clue where you were."

"Chillax dude," she drawled, not even bothering to look at him as she open the refrigerator to peruse its contents. "Like mom gives a flying fuck about what I'm up to. She's too busy playing house with her new hubby in Chicago to worry about whether I left you a note or not. Besides its like, 1am- if I had a curfew I totally would have made it."

Puck shook his head at her in exasperation and leaned over her shoulder to snag himself a beer. "You're doing my fucking head in." he told her and she scoffed.

"Me? Puh-lease," she emphasized, "Like living with you is all sunshine and roses. You've been in a fucking foul mood for weeks."

"I have fucking not." He denied heatedly, annoyed.

"You have," she retorted smugly, knowing she was hitting on a sore spot by the way his face turned an interesting shade of purple. "You've barely said like 2 words since you went to the city with Quinn and Finn last month. And last week, just as I thought you were lightening the-fuck-up, you came home Sunday morning, drunk off your fucking rocker and just about bit my head off later for daring to make noise in the kitchen at 5 o'clock in the fucking afternoon."

"Shit Becca," he grouched, "Why you gotta fucking swear so much? It's disgusting."

She rolled her eyes, "I'm sorry, am I offending your delicate sensibilities with my potty mouth?" She inquired, her tone dripping in sarcasm. "Don't change the subject. What's up with you?"

"Nothing." He said sullenly, dropping into a chair at the kitchen table and peeling at the label on his beer bottle.

"Ri-ght." She drawled, eyeing her brooding brother. "Does this have anything to do with that Rachel chick?"

At the sound of her name, Puck's head shot up and the glare he sent towards his sister had her swallow almost nervously.

_**Bingo.**_

"It does." She guessed. "Rachel Berry, right? She used to go to our Temple, back in Lima."

"Just shut the fuck up about Rachel ok? There's nothing going on there." He snapped, getting up and grabbing the neck of his beer bottle.

"Sure, nothing." Becca agreed innocently, pulling a crumpled playbill from her coat pocket and tossing it on the table between them. "Then why was this-" she pointed at the program. "stuffed in the trash today? I find that a bizarre since it's been tacked in prime position on our fridge for the last month and you just about threw me out when it had slid between the fridge and the cupboard and you thought I'd thrown it away."

"S'not important." He said sullenly. "The play ended this weekend. No reason to keep it." His justification made no sense and her arched eyebrow told him exactly that.

"Hmm, well if you don't care about the play either way, it may interest you to know that according to the online Broadway Blog, your Rachel came down with a nasty case of strep throat this week and was too ill to go on tonight. The journalist reporting the story said her pulling out of the show on the finale weekend is going to mark against her when she auditions for Wicked next month."

Puck felt his gut sink. So Chloe's threats had stuck; Rachel gave up her finale weekend to buy the other girl's silence. He felt like shit. Any chance he had of making her talk to him now was pretty much shot to hell. She'd made it clear that whatever they'd shared wasn't worth her career. Having to sacrifice her role to cover up their affair was something he knew she could never forgive.

Puck stared at the playbill, his eyes tracing her name on the cover. With jerky movements he fisted the glossy program and threw it furiously in the direction of the trash can. Rebecca watched him with wide eyes as he stalked back to his bedroom, slamming the door so hard, the pictures on the wall rattled.

Rebecca blew out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding, staring after his departed form with worried hazel eyes. _Not__important__my__ass._


	5. Complications and Revelations

_**A/N: Yes this update is long overdue, sorry for that. But the C & C muse jumped shipped a while back and while she was off drinking frozen margaritas and frolicking in the sun, I was freezing my butt off and agonizing over every single damn line! **_

_**Thanks to GoingVintage for the validation and for not judging my nutty freak outs. Nikki, I promise not to curse your beloved Yankees anymore, your hand holding and the 'nuh, not working for me' "yep, keep that' brought it together yesterday.**_

_**And OF COURSE Suze, who wrote virtually the entire midsection when all I could manage was 'BIG FAT NOTHING?' I think I'd have to retire from fanfic if I didn't have your ok on virtually every paragraph...what can I say? I'm needy! If you knew who Delta Goodrem was I'd sing 'Lost without You'. I'm tone deaf, so just take my thanks, k?**_

_**So there you go folks. Weeks of nail biting, msn chats, texts and emails went into what you're about to read so please, please, please like it :)**_

Kurt was standing with his Marketing Manager discussing the launch of the fall line, when he saw Rachel enter the large loft space that housed _Couture__by_ _Kurt_'s offices. He could tell immediately that something was off as her smile was forced when she extended greetings to his design team - a far cry from the exuberant chatter she usually subjected them to when she visited.

"Everything okay Diva?" He asked in concern a few minutes later, donning his fedora in preparation for the short stroll to the restaurant they were dining at for lunch.

She nodded and offered him the same grimace-like quirk of her lips she had given his staff and hooked her arm through his, walking wordlessly with him towards the stairs.

A silent Rachel Berry-Weitzmann screamed drama and he wasn't unashamed of the excitement that coursed through him at the prospect. Kurt and his partner had been together for years; they were practically married (and probably would be had New York state laws differed). They argued and were happily – and disgustingly- as enamoured with each other now as they were when they had first met. His own life was so normal and dare he say it, dull, that he had to live vicariously through Rachel's own turbulent marriage.

Kurt chattered all the way to their favorite eatery, filling her in on the success he'd had with stores in Italy and France agreeing to sell his line. She made all the appropriate responses, congratulating him on the new venture and smiling at his description of the yummy stylist from Madrid who had been assisting him with fostering his relationships with designer boutiques throughout Europe.

It wasn't until they were seated at their usual table, out on the terrace, sipping on their drinks – cranberry and soda water for her, a cosmopolitan for him (what? It was five o'clock somewhere) – that he fixed his gaze on her with a determined look that meant business.

"Ok Diva, spill. What has put those premature wrinkles on your forehead?"

"Nothing," she claimed quietly and he scowled.

"Don't give me the 'nothing' line, Sweets. I've known you for far longer than I care to admit," he joked, "I can tell when something is bothering you and today, Gorgeous, the anxiety is rolling of you in waves."

Rachel ran her finger absently around the ring of her glass, collecting her thoughts. The flamboyant designer was right; he'd been her friend a long time and if anyone could read her like an open book, it was him. If there was anyone she could trust with her secrets, it was Kurt.

Her gaze travelled slowly around the restaurant, ensuring there wasn't anyone within ear shot that could hear their conversation, before she took a deep breath and said the two words that had been repeating over and over in her head since her suspicion took root the day before.

"I'm pregnant."

Kurt blinked rapidly, "Excuse me?"

"I'm pregnant." Rachel repeated quietly. "At least, I think I am. I've been fighting nausea for the last two weeks, I suddenly can't stand the smell of bananas or, strangely enough, lilacs – which you know are my favorite – and I missed my last menstrual cycle."

She watched him carefully as his mouth opened and shut again. Kurt cleared his throat and then reached for his cocktail, quickly downing the contents in one big gulp. When he set the empty glass back down, he laughed lightly, though there was a slight hinge of hysteria in his delivery.

"I'm sorry, I think I misheard you. I thought you said you were _pregnant_." He shook his head rapidly, as if he was trying to dislodge the thought from his head. She must be mistaken, because there was no conceivable way that statement could hold even an ounce of truth.

Rachel Berry-Weitzmann planned _everything_. She meticulously listed every commitment and every purchase - no matter how small - in her day planner. She was organized. Her appointments were color coded. Her day was scheduled from 6am when she commenced her daily fitness regime with 45 minutes of strenuous activity, to 11:30 at night when she cleansed, toned and moisturized before bed. Her clothes hung neatly in her closet, arranged by season, color and garment type. Her shoes were lined up by height and purpose. Every facet of her life was pre-planned and compartmentalized.

It just didn't make sense that she was sitting opposite him - looking as if someone had just told her they'd run over her kitten - telling him she was having a baby, when he knew that was the last thing on her agenda right now.

"You heard right." She confirmed softly.

Before he could form a response, their food arrived. A warm spinach and chicken salad was placed in front of Rachel and a delicious smelling roasted pumpkin risotto in front of Kurt, and then the waiter topped off their water glasses before leaving them to their strained silence.

"Say something," she begged when she could no longer stand the nervous tap of his long fingers against the tablecloth.

Finally, he spoke. "Michael's?" The question was cautious but Kurt already knew the answer.

She shook her head.

"Puck's?"

Rachel nodded, her eyes immediately filling with tears.

"Oh Sweetie," he sighed, producing a pristine handkerchief from his pocket and passing it to her, wincing when she dabbed it against her face and dark black smudges from her mascara transferred onto the expensive white linen.

"How did this happen?" he asked carefully.

"I told you about that night-"

"Yes," Kurt agreed, "Puckerman abs of steel, hung like a stallion, stamina of a Kentucky Derby Winner…I remember. What I don't understand, is how you end up _pregnant_. Surely you weren't stupid enough to forgo protection – not with his reputation. And I know you're on the pill."

Rachel paled, she was so caught up in the thought that she might be carrying Noah's child, it hadn't occurred to her that he might have given her something else. "I am on the pill." She confirmed, "But that's not 100 % effective. And we did use protection. At least, we did the first time," she paused, remembering. "And the second time," She added, "But then-"

"Dear god woman," he was staring at her with something akin to jealousy in his eyes. "How many times did you two-" he broke off, shaking his head. "Never mind, I don't want to know."

He frowned at her in disappointment. "This is so unlike you, failing to take precautions. You could have at least gone into damage control the morning after. You're smarter than that, Diva."

"I know." Rachel acknowledged the rebuke. She could offer no excuse, she _was_smarter than that. She'd been on the contraceptive pill for years but on the rare occasion she had sex with her husband, she still made Michael use a condom, as much to protect herself from his extra marital activities as an unwanted pregnancy. She'd known consciously, as Puck had taken her in the shower, that the timing was risky and that she would need to take measures in the aftermath to prevent the current situation she was facing. But in the wake of the emotional upheaval of their night together, secondary birth control had completely slipped her mind.

It wasn't until she stared at the bright red circles on the calendar, whose dates had passed without incident, did she realize the consequences of her lapse in judgement.

She pushed her salad around her plate, her appetite – what little she'd had to begin with – had deserted her.

"But you said you _think_ you might be." Kurt remembered her exact phrasing. "You don't _know_. This could just be the result of you finishing up with the show. Your body might be shutting down, telling you that you've worked it too hard for too long and -"

"That's not it," she cut him off. She loved him for trying, attempting to dissuade her from the worst case scenario, but she just _knew_. She was a little bit psychic after all and almost every night that week she'd dreamed about hazel-eyed, Jewish babies.

_Beautiful_ hazel-eyed, Jewish babies.

Kurt believed her. He just could fathom the fact that she was PREGNANT - to a man who was most definitely_not_ her husband.

"I have a doctor's appointment tomorrow," she told him, forcing a forkful of salad into her mouth. When she had swallowed she continued, "but I can't wait that long. I was awake for hours last night, wondering. I'm going to take a test this afternoon." She bit her lip, gazing at her friend with big, brown eyes.

"Will you be with me when I do?" The vulnerability in her voice broke his heart and instantly he felt remorse for his unhelpful reaction to her news. Her whole world was falling apart and he was lecturing her on birth control.

He was in shock, sure, but she needed support.

"Of course I will Rachel. We'll go right after lunch." He reached over and took her small hand in his, squeezing her fingers. "Everything will be fine. Don't you worry about a thing."

She felt the tear slide down her cheek and she brushed it away with a grunt of disgust. "Oh, not again."

Kurt laughed, not unkindly. He patted her hand and reached for his fork.

"I think you better get used to that," he advised, winking and chewing blissfully on his lunch.

"Great," she muttered.

Kurt grinned at her and they continued to eat in silence.

Fourty-five minutes later, they were standing side by side in the feminine products section of the pharmacy, blown away by the sheer number of choices available to them. Rachel chewed on her lip and looked helplessly at Kurt, who raised his eyebrow in amusement.

"Don't look at me," he said wryly, "Do I look like I have a uterus?"

She sighed, her gaze running over the rows and rows of near identical boxes, with packaging promising fast, accurate results. He took pity on her and started plucking tests at random, throwing them into the black basket he had picked up when they entered the store.

Kurt pushed Rachel in the direction of the checkout, instructing her to save them a place in line while he grabbed a few other items. He diverted toward a small grocery section at the edge of the pharmacy and grabbed two pints of ice cream; Diva wasn't singing right now and this occasion definitely called for some Ben & Jerry's therapy. He darted through the aisles adding tissues and copious amounts of candy to his haul.

He passed the magazine stand and picked up that months issue of Cosmo before joining Rachel in line. Her eyebrow arched as she glanced in the basket and he shrugged, offering no explanation.

When the cashier had rung up the items, subjecting Rachel to a speculating look that had her flushing with embarrassment, they decided to head to Kurt's apartment, not wanting to take a chance on running into Michael.

Two blocks from their destination, the designer pulled on her hand as they passed his local liquor store and dragged her inside. He chose the best and most expensive bottle of red wine the store offered and when his purchase was bagged and tucked under his arm, he faced his best friend.

"I think we're prepared now. Ice-cream and chocolate for a positive result," he explained, rustling the bag from the pharmacy, "booze for a negative." He paused, his gaze softening. "Tissues for both instances."

She was startled by his perceptiveness. She was so sure she was carrying Noah's child, that she hadn't given thought to how she would feel if it turned out, miraculously, that she _wasn't_.

Upon arriving at Kurt's, Rachel made a beeline for the bathroom. The heavy scent of the incense that Kurt's partner Brad favored had her emptying the contents of her stomach for the third time that day. Kurt called out to her from behind the closed door, "Sweetie there are saltines and ginger ale on a tray, just outside the door. Do you need anything else?"

"No thank you. Just three minutes for the tests to work. I'll get started."

Rachel proceeded to open one test packet from each of the six boxes Kurt had selected earlier. Once the tests were started and she set the timer on her phone, she lined them up on the counter, washed up and opened the door for Kurt.

Kurt grabbed the tray and entered the bathroom. Rachel took a sip of soda and held his hand with her clammy one, her eyes clenched shut. Those three minutes seemed like an eternity.

Kurt watched the tension building in his best friend. While he worried about the ramifications of a positive result on her career and her marriage, he also imagined that it may be the only way to separate the Diva from her horrid husband. He knew that the storm would be difficult to weather but for the last 30 seconds he closed his eyes too and prayed for a plus sign.

At last, the shrill ring on the phone alarm indicated the wait was over. He looked at her in askance and she shook her head. "Will you look? Please, Kurt. I can't do it. I just can't."

"Of course." Taking a deep breath, he looked at all six tests and their accompanying instructions. "Sweetie," he nearly whispered, "the results are unanimous, I'm sorry but you are pregnant."

They stared at each other with wide eyes until she finally succumbed to her panic and confusion. Launching herself into his waiting arms she burst into tears. Kurt cradled her carefully as they sank together to the cold tile, running his hands comfortingly over her hair as she sobbed uncontrollably into his silk shirt that probably cost ten times as much as that adorable cotton dress she was wearing.

He murmured over and over that everything was going to be alright, feeling the sting of his own tears behind burning eyelids. He held strong for her sake and it wasn't until after Rachel had left and Brad had returned home to find his boyfriend staring at a fistful of positive pregnancy tests, did Kurt admit that he was terrified of the consequences his friend's actions had set in motion.

Hours later with a stomach full of ice cream and a freshly painted face covering her anguish, Rachel returned home to get ready for a scheduled dinner date with her husband. She climbed the stairs wearily, hoping the evening wouldn't be a late one and that she had a suitable dress for the occasion. She was thumbing through her options in the large walk-in closet, in a bedroom she hadn't occupied in months, when she heard Michael enter the apartment. She visibly tensed, which was sadly typical these days when he was in close proximity.

It became evident that her husband was oblivious to her presence – he usually made it home before her - as he bellowed for the housekeeper. "Rosa, I need you to get a stain out of my shirt again." She wondered what shade of lipstick it was this time.

Rachel heard Rosa sprint toward the front door and then the hushed tones of conversation, but was unable to make out the words. She could only imagine that her "loyal" help was informing Michael that she was, in fact, home. Rachel had always maintained a brave face when dealing publicly with her husband's infidelity – but the evidence of his blatant womanizing stung. His constant pursuit of younger women, with considerably less talent and intelligence than herself, had left its mark on her confidence. What Rachel failed to grasp, to Kurt's frustration, was that her husband's behavior was a result of his own insecurities and not due to any perceived shortcomings on her part.

Intent on avoiding a conflict, Rachel grabbed her I-Pod, slamming her earphones into the jack and the buds into her ears. By the time Michael came upstairs, prepared with an inventive, but otherwise lame excuse for his interchange with Rosa, she was singing along softly to the Broadway recording of Defying Gravity.

She continued to peruse the contents of her closet as he entered their bedroom, pretending she was unaware that he had paused and was standing at the door to the walk-in, directly behind her. He was smug, believing he had sidestepped another near miss and turned, heading for the master bathroom. Rachel allowed herself to relax when she felt him move away and was relieved that she wasn't to endure another volatile showdown.

Her fingers ran over a familiar red dress and her thoughts turned to Noah. She knew she had to tell him when the doctor confirmed her condition, even if she hadn't even begun to consider what she would do about the pregnancy.

The thought of seeing him again simultaneously terrified and excited her.

She felt a slight draft as Michael opened the bathroom door and strode back into the bedroom. She took a deep breath and plucked out her earphones. Turning brightly toward her husband, she exited the closet with three outfits for him to choose from and greeted him with a wide smile, "How was your day, sweetheart?"

She secretly thanked her fathers and acting coaches. All that training would come in handy over the next few weeks.

Rachel stood on the sidewalk, gazing at the garage across the street, identifying itself proudly as Puckerman's Tire and Auto. The signage looked new, she noted idly, its bold yellow lettering demanded attention, standing out against a dark green background. She couldn't hazard a guess as to how long she had stood there, staring at the sign. Her eyes continually traced the cursive letters of Puck's surname as she waged an internal battle with her emotions.

It was as if her feet were cemented to the concrete, unable – or unwilling – to make the short trek across the road to her destination. She tried to imagine what his reaction would be to her news. Shock? Anger? Denial? Accusation? The possibilities were endless.

She balled her fists, shoving them into the pockets of her light jacket. _Deep__breaths__Rachel__,_ she silently coached, assuring herself that she could do this. She exhaled loudly and waited for the walk signal. Barely a minute later she was cautiously pushing open the glass door to the reception area, finding the small outer office empty. It was Saturday morning and she knew, from Kurt's phone call to Quinn the day before and his discreet line of questioning, that Noah sometimes worked a half day on a Saturday, when demand called for it.

Thankfully, today was one of those days.

Rachel craned her head to peer through the partially open door that led through to the workshop. The sound of the radio accompanied the clanging of tools as he worked on the engine of a sleek BMW, the open hood of the vehicle shielding his body from her prying gaze. There was a bell on the desk with a small sign that indicated one should press for service and an attendant would be with her shortly. Rachel hesitated, then inched the door open further and slipped through it without announcing her presence.

She had rehearsed what she was going to say a hundred times over the last few days, but found that her carefully formulated speech had deserted her sometime during the short subway ride to Brooklyn. Rachel thought that maybe if she just saw him, the right words would come to her.

She could hear Puck before she could see him. He was making a terrible racket banging away at something out of her line of sight. A few muttered curses drifted over the sound of classic rock playing on the radio behind him, and Rachel couldn't help but smile as the familiar phrases fell from his lips. His frequent profanity was vulgar, indeed, but so very _him._ She was glad he hadn't changed much from the boy she'd once known.

Puck didn't glance up as he walked around the front of the vehicle, closer to where she was standing. Instead, he continued to abuse the exposed engine and she allowed herself the luxury of watching him work for a while. He leaned over and fiddled with the spark plugs, taking a small flashlight out his shirt pocket and shining it into the depths of the engine.

Her eyes ran over his form, clad in worn faded jeans that clung to his muscular thighs and a dark blue shirt emblazed with the Puckerman logo unbuttoned over a plain white tee, the sleeves rolled up over strong, sinewy forearms.

"Fucking piece of shit!" he swore again and scratched the back of his shortly cropped hair.

Her eyes followed the movement and she recalled with perfect clarity how his large, calloused hands had felt as they cupped her breasts and teased her nipples, and the dragging, greedy slide of his lips against her skin. She felt herself flush with the memory of his ragged breathing in her ear and the thick, hot length of him as he thrust inside her for the very first time.

Rachel didn't think she moved or made a sound, but suddenly she found his eyes locked on her. He didn't smile and she felt a thin sheen of sweat break out on her forehead. Her hands started to shake and she wrapped her arms around herself to hide their unsteadiness.

"Hello Noah," she said, trying out a smile. It wasn't returned. Her stomach rolled in nervous expectancy and she thought for a moment that she might give in to the lingering nauseousness that had been plaguing her all week. She hugged herself tighter and breathed through her nose.

"Berry." The greeting wasn't exactly curt, but it certainly wasn't friendly. She noted the use of her surname.

"Can't you at least pretend to be happy to see me?" she asked with a forced lightness. Although his expression didn't alter, something flickered in those intense hazel eyes.

He didn't answer.

"How have you been?" she ventured, trying to gather her scattered wits.

"Fan-fucking-tastic," he drawled gruffly with a roll of his eyes.

She didn't appreciate his attitude; she was trying to be polite. Her temper flared and her next few strides towards him were maybe a little more aggressive then she intended them to be. "Don't you dare be so rude, Noah Puckerman! You could at least say hello to me."

"Hello." He deadpanned, staring back at her. There was a smudge of grease on his lower jaw and the urge to reach out and wipe it off was so compelling, her fingers actually twitched. She dug her nails into her palms and tried to ignore how much she longed to run her fingertips over his stubble and feel his hands span her waist as he pulled her close.

She blamed it on her hormones which were already running rampant.

"Very mature." She huffed, projecting an air of annoyance.

"Fuck woman, what do you want me to say? Do you expect me to believe you came all the way to Brooklyn just to say hello?" he cocked his eyebrow sceptically.

"It's not that far," she said, attempting the smile again; it failed miserably.

He stared at her for a long moment and sighed. "What do you want, Rachel?"

She opened her mouth but no noise came out. She didn't know where to start.

_Well__Noah,__the__child__currently__gestating__inside__of__me__is__yours__and__I__came__to__see__how__you__felt__about__the__situation?_ No, that was too forward.

Puck's grunt of dismissal as he turned his back on her didn't help matters any. "I – I think we need to talk," she said finally, when she could.

He threw down a rag he had been using to wipe his grease stained hands and crossed his arms. "What do we have to talk about Rach? The weather? How fucking shitty the Yankees have been playing this season? Your husband?" He spat that last bit and she shook her head.

"This isn't about Michael," she said, taking another step closer to him. "This is about me. And you."

She must have sounded unsure, because Puck's head snapped up and his eyes narrowed.

"There is no 'me and you'," he stated clearly. "A few orgasms and a good fuck was what we were, right? You made it crystal-fucking-clear that_whatever_ it was that happed between us, is over."

He spun away so quickly that he missed her flinch. She had no idea why his harsh reminder cut so deeply, even though she had spoken the words he had just thrown back in her face. She told herself it was because of the baby. She didn't want its conception to be labelled like that.

"You didn't want an _affair_, you said. It wasn't worth it, remember?" he continued, throwing tools haphazardly onto the ground. She winced every time the metal clattered loudly onto the cold, concrete slab.

Rachel hated the resentment in his tone. She knew she'd been fooling herself when she reduced their connection to little more than an itch that they'd used each other to scratch. He was more than that to her, even if it had been 10 years since she'd really known him. She cared about him. And from the way he was acting, she deduced he felt something for her too.

"I'm sorry Noah." She said quietly. She didn't think he heard her over all the noise he was making. He slammed the hood of the car and slouched over it, bracing his palms on the gleaming black surface.

"Damn it, Rachel. What are you doing here?" he demanded for the second time.

"I'm pregnant," she said at a near-whisper. As soon as the words left her lips, a panicked wave of nausea hit her so strongly that she wobbled a little on the spot, trying vainly to clamp down on the feeling. It made her dizzy and she leant against the BMW, attempting to catch her breath.

He watched her face pale and in less than five seconds, Puck had a dusty chair on propped under her ass as he pushed down on her shoulders, urging her to sit.

He stood, studying her for a moment, before disappearing into the reception area and then returning with a paper cup of water that he held out to her and she accepted gratefully.

"Thank you," she said softly, taking a sip. The water was so cold it hurt her teeth.

She closed her eyes and rubbed her temple, feeling the tell tale tightening of an approaching headache. When she looked up at him, she found he was watching her with open concern.

Silence stretched between them and he sighed, dragging a stool over from nearby and seating himself heavily on it, scarcely three feet away from where she sat.

"You ok?"

She nodded and smiled weakly. "It's just morning sickness."

He consulted the clock. "It's almost noon."

She chuckled without humor. "It's just an expression. Apparently it's common for women to experience nausea at any time of the day during the first trimester."

He digested her statement, looking intently at his boots. Finally, his head lifted and he met her gaze full on. "What does your husband think about all this?"

Rachel looked back at him, unwavering, picking up on his silent question.

"I haven't told him yet."

He waited.

"It's not his." She watched him fidget, his Adams apple bobbing. "You're the father, Noah."

To his credit, he didn't show any outward signs of shock or panic. "Have you been to the doctor yet? Is everything okay?" Puck wanted to know.

She nodded, taking comfort in his calmness. Truthfully, she'd been worried that he'd throw the wrench he'd been holding at her. She didn't know whether she should be concerned though, that he appeared to be completely unruffled by the bombshell she had just dropped on him.

"I'm fine. The doctor says I'm in excellent health, perfect for carrying a baby to term."

They lapsed into silence, both staring ahead. He shifted restlessly and Rachel got the feeling he was making a very conscious effort not to touch her or sit too close.

"When?" His voice caught unexpectedly and the question came out huskily.

"When?" she echoed, feeling confused. They'd only really been together that one night; she didn't think it was likely he'd have forgotten about it.

"When are you _due_, Rachel?"

She hesitated; this was the bit that she had been dreading. She knew he wasn't likely to take it well. "Noah," she stated quietly. "I don't know that I'm going to keep it."

Immediately, his forehead creased and his face darkened. He glared at her and stood abruptly. His foot kicked out and the stool went flying clear across the dirty floor.

"Noah!"

He was breathing harshly, his chest rising and falling to an erratic beat as he struggled to reign in his anger. When he had composed himself, he turned his head and his eyes locked on hers.

"You want an abortion?" He barked harshly.

"No, I don't _want_ an abortion. But I can't rule out the option." she told him hoarsely. "There's so much to consider, this situation is fraught with complications."

"Complications?" He questioned shortly, his large hands settling on his hips.

"I have to factor in my career, Noah. My marriage, my_life_. I had never considered having children; I had a plan, a baby just didn't factor into that."

"Well I'm sorry that this has upset your fucking applecart," he scorned, "but plan or no plan, you _are_ knocked up so we have to deal with it."

"I know that! I just need-" Rachel paused, what did she need? "Time. I need you to give me some time, to figure it out."

He scrutinized her face, seeing the weariness on her features. She had black shadows underneath her eyes that made it seem like she hadn't had a decent night's sleep in weeks.

"Is the kid mine Rachel? I mean, are you sure?" There was no scepticism in his tone, no accusation. He just needed to be certain.

"Yes I'm sure." She held his gaze so he could see the sincerity in hers. "Michael and I, we haven't-" she shook her head, "not for a long time. There's no conceivable way it could be his."

He wanted to ask why. He simply could not understand why Michael Weitzmann did not appreciate the beautiful, talented woman in front of him. He could not imagine sleeping next to her nightly and not taking full advantage of the situation. Shaking his head and regaining focus, Noah determined that her marriage to the King of the Douches wasn't his primary concern. She had just confirmed that he was going to be a dad, again, and all he could think about was making sure that he actually got to see this one, his baby, for more than a few minutes. To hold his kid and see it grow up.

He closed his eyes and counted to ten.

Ten minutes. That's how long it had taken for his whole world to change. His focus, his entire existence had just altered. Suddenly, he couldn't imagine wanting anything more than he wanted Rachel and their baby. A baby she wasn't sure she was going to keep.

Puck couldn't let her take the dream away from him before he had the chance to savour it, the thought terrified him.

"I'm sorry Noah," she said quietly. "I know it's not fair of me to spring this on you without having the faintest idea of how I wish to proceed. But as soon as I had my pregnancy confirmed, I knew I had to tell you. I didn't want to keep the news from you for an indiscernible length of time, it just wouldn't be right."

A flash of pain flitted across his features and she knew he was thinking of another time, another girl and another baby.

"It's ok, I'm glad you told me." He told her seriously.

Rachel bit her lip and nodded. "I just," she stopped, unsure. "I wish it were easier. I have a feeling a simple pro/con list isn't going to serve me well in this situation." She looked genuinely unhappy by that thought, as if she was betrayed by a system that had always served her well.

"Probably not." He replied unhelpfully and she gave him a look as if to say, if he had nothing constructive to say, he should just shut the hell up.

"I worked so hard to get where I am," Rachel mused out loud, the faraway lilt in her tone telling him she wasn't really looking for a response. "I was supposed to have a Tony Award by the time I was 30, or at the very least a nomination…perhaps a record deal in the works. I'm very ambitious," her eyes slid to his as she stated this, as if he doubted her commitment to her craft.

"I know," he stated automatically.

"It's hard to contemplate keeping it when I know that having the baby means sacrificing everything I'm been striving to achieve. I don't want to resent my child, Noah, and I'm afraid that's exactly what I would do."

Puck made a sound of frustration, "Why do you assume it's going to be that way? Heaps of women manage careers and babies. Fuck, my Ma worked the whole time Becca and I were growing up. She juggled 2 kids, a full time job and studying so she could become a nurse. Your life won't be over just because you have a kid Rach, it's not like you can't go back to Broadway once you've popped it out."

She bristled at his nonchalance. "You're an idiot Noah Puckerman," she told him without preamble, "My husband is the most successful producer on Broadway. Do you think anyone is going to hire me if they find out the baby I'm carrying isn't his?"

"If?" his eyes narrowed and he advanced on her, his steps slow and sure. She resisted the urge to back away as he got closer.

"Let me tell you something Rachel, that baby in your belly is _mine_. You said so yourself, so there's no fucking 'ifs' about it. I let someone else claim my kid once and I won't do it again. And if you decide to keep it, I'm going to be the dad. No pansy-ass fucking Broadway Producer is going to take my place."

Rachel placed her palm on his chest and looked up at him, her brown eyes wide and earnest. "Noah," she stated softly, "I'm not going to pretend this baby isn't yours. I would never take that away from you. I told you that there's no way Michael could be the father, he'd know that too the second he found out about the pregnancy."

Her eyes lowered and she stared at the dark blue material of his shirt as if it held the answers to all of her troubles.

"I'm scared," she admitted, her voice catching. "I don't feel in control of anything anymore and the thought of having to…" she trailed off. "I think whatever decision I make, it will prove to be the wrong one. I don't know what to do."

Puck covered her hand with his, holding it against his chest as his tipped her chin with his free hand and met her gaze. Rachel didn't know she was crying until she felt him brush away the tears with the pad of his thumb.

"Don't cry," he said lowly. "We'll…we'll work it out, ok? If you need time, you got it. Just-" he paused, "don't rush it. Think about it, please. I don't want you to have an abortion, but it's your call. I may not have a fancy penthouse or a beach house in the Hamptons but I'll do right by you and the baby. I can take care of you."

Rachel stared at him, unblinking, before rising on her tiptoes and kissing him gently. She was so accustomed to Michael fighting her every step of the way, questioning her and ridiculing her decisions. Having Noah say that he would support her, even if he didn't agree with her decision, completely floored her. She wished she could tell him what he wanted to hear.

"I'm sorry Noah, I'm so sorry."

He hated the defeat in her voice. It was almost like she'd already made up her mind and she was apologizing for the fact that she knew she was going to rip his heart out by the seams. He wanted to hate her, but he found himself pulling her into his arms instead. Later, she might become the woman he despised the most, but right now she was the mother of his kid and the urge to just hold her was too strong.

Becca yawned as she headed for the stairs that would lead her from the apartment and down into the garage. It was 11:30 and she was just getting out of bed, the tequila she'd stolen from her brothers stash the night before and taken to a friends party, had left her with a bad headache and a craving for bacon.

The absence of a television blaring loudly from the living room told her that Noah was downstairs and she hoped she could work her sisterly charms and convince him he really, _really_ wanted to make her one of his famous Puckerman BLTs.

As she reached the door that lead to the workshop, she paused at the sound of murmured voices - one distinctly feminine – and the telltale sniffles that indicated someone was crying. Becca reached for the doorknob and twisted it slowly, wincing when she pulled the door open and the hinges creaked.

Her head peaked around the opening and she saw a petite brunette wrapped in her brother's embrace, with her face pressed into his chest as she sobbed brokenly. He was rubbing a hand over her back in large, soothing circles and telling her with a quiet conviction that everything was going to be ok. Becca might have closed the door and given them privacy, had she not caught the softness in his tone. Noah was her brother, she thought that maybe she knew him better than anyone on the planet – their mother included – and in the 17 years that she had known him, she'd never seen him be so gentle. He was generally loud, uncouth and frankly, a bit of an ass.

The identity of the woman intrigued her.

Becca didn't have to wait long before the mystery was solved.

"Rachel, calm down." Puck was pleading, "And stop fucking apologizing. This is as much my fault as it is yours."

Rachel? Rebecca mused. Broadway's own Rachel Berry-Weitzmann?

She knew her brother's snarly attitude these last few weeks was tied to her somehow, especially in light of his reaction to Becca bringing up her name in conversation the week before. What exactly was going on here? She was married to some big-shot producer….wasn't she?

Becca watched as her brother cupped Rachel's face and brushed his lips sweetly over hers. The tenderness of his action only seemed to increase the woman's distress.

"Stop it Noah, you know we can't complicate things further by-"

He cut her off with another kiss. This one was longer, more passionate.

Becca's eyes widened. She had her suspicions and was under no illusions that her brother was a saint, but this chick had a husband and she knew, just from this brief interaction, that Rachel wasn't just another name on Noah's long list of conquests. She meant something to him; Becca could tell just by the way he touched her.

Rachel leaned into his body as his lips moved over hers and when he pulled back, her palms were lying flat on his chest and they were standing thigh to thigh. She made no move to step away.

Quiet words were exchanged that Becca was unable to make out, and finally Rachel stepped out of his embrace, running a shaky hand over her long, dark hair.

Puck shoved his hands in his pockets and gazed at her, an inscrutable look on his face.

"What now?" he asked dully.

Rachel exhaled loudly. "Well, I have a decision to make, don't I?" she replied softly.

Becca watched as Noah's shoulders slumped and he ducked his head.

Rachel hesitated before reaching up and running her fingers over his jaw. "I'll call you." She promised.

He sighed, a deep tortured sound that had his sister frowning as she tried to make sense of the scene unfolding in front of her. The tension between the two was palpable and Becca found that she couldn't bring herself to look at her brother's face anymore. His expression was one of longing and torment and she found her eyes settling on the brunette instead, her gaze hardening. She wondered if Rachel recognized the look on Noah's face for what it was and knew that his posture was one of defeat.

Becca couldn't pretend to understand what was going on but she found herself wishing Rachel would just go and leave him alone. From the rigid set to his shoulders, it looked like Noah was just barely keeping himself in check.

He could have any woman he fixed his cocky smirk on, what was he doing tangling himself up with her?

"Ok," he replied after a moment of uncomfortable silence. "Just-" he sighed again. "If you need anything Rachel, I'm here."

She nodded, avoiding his gaze now as she fidgeted with the hem of her jacket. "Thank you."

They stood in silence for what seemed like forever and then Rachel was touching his shoulder and walking away. Becca and Noah both watched as she slipped back through the office and out the front door. When he was sure she had gone, Noah let out a string of curses and violently lashed out, throwing punch after punch at the concrete wall.

After a few minutes, during which time Becca stood completely still, horrified as his knuckles split open and his grunts of anger turned into those of pain, he stopped. He stalked towards her hiding place on the stairs throwing the door open as he mounted the first steps.

He stopped abruptly as he caught sight of her and she shrank back from the lingering fury in his heated gaze. She opened her mouth to say something, anything, but he stomped past her without a word, slamming the door at the top of the stairs, effectively cutting off the conversation before it began.

She stared after him, confused, bewildered and truthfully a little frightened. She'd never seen him lose control like that and the fact that he did, over Rachel, just made the woman numero uno on her most hated list. She hoped whatever it was that attracted Noah to her, faded fast because he'd never been good at sharing and Rachel, well, she belonged to someone else.


	6. Close Encounters of the Stairwell Kind

Rachel smiled at the barista at her favourite café as he handed her a steaming cup of decaf coffee, "There you are, Rachel," Jon said in a gesture of familiarity, "Enjoy your day. We'll see you tomorrow?" It was posed as a question but since she dropped by at least once a day, he didn't bother waiting for an answer as he busied himself with the next order.

She smiled again in thanks and gave him a parting wave, securing the plastic lid in place as she turned, finding herself literally face to face with a very familiar blonde.

"Quinn!" Rachel exclaimed in surprise, taking a step back in order to regain her personal space. "This is an uncanny coincidence, running into you here in the Village. How are you?"

Quinn gave her a lingering once over, her eyes resting for a split second too long on Rachel's flat stomach. "Kurt told me you stop by here every morning about this time," the former cheerleader confessed. "I thought maybe we could sit down and have a chat." Her tone was mild and pleasant but Rachel couldn't help but feel wary. Sure, the two of them had been cordial enough to each other the night Rachel and Noah had ended up in bed together, but they had never exchanged more than superficial chitchat, letting Finn, Puck and Kurt direct the conversation.

She was apprehensive about the gleam of determination in Quinn's bright green eyes and frantically sought out an excuse so she could politely decline the other woman's company. Quinn must have recognised the thinly veiled panic in Rachel's gaze as her expression softened.

"Relax, I'm here because thought you might need someone to talk to, in light of the current circumstances."

"You want to talk?" Rachel verified sceptically, raising her eyebrow. "Noah sent you didn't he? To find out if I'd come to any sort of decision. That's not fair, he knows how confusing this is for me and he has no right drawing other people into such a private matter." She was gripping her paper cup so tightly, the lid she had secured only moments before popped off and the scalding liquid spilled to the floor.

"Shoot," Rachel muttered, craning her head towards the counter to gain the attention of one of the employees. A lanky boy in his late teens was already hurrying towards them, mop in hand. He reached out for Rachel's half empty cup, "Here Rach, let me take that from you. Sit down for a few minutes and I'll make you a fresh one."

"Thank you, Sam," she said, sighing inwardly at the look of triumph that passed over Quinn's face.

"Your usual?" Sam asked as he gave the floor a quick mop.

"No actually, decaf with soy milk if you don't mind." Rachel corrected with a strained smile. Quinn gestured towards two plump armchairs by the window. "We'll be sitting over there." She told him as she led the way over to where she had previously been sitting, staking out Rachel's arrival.

When the two women were seated they stared at each other uncomfortably for a few long minutes, until the silence was broken by Sam returning with Rachel's fresh beverage. When he was gone, Quinn spoke.

"Puck didn't send me, in fact, he may have specifically asked me not to come when I mentioned that I might," she admitted, without a trace of guilt.

Rachel blinked in confusion. "Then why are you here? We've never been friends Quinn." she pointed out. "Are you really going to pretend you were concerned about how I was coping, or are you here to gloat about how spectacularly I've managed to mess up my life?" Her tone was bitter and she felt the telltale sting of tears.

Hormones were a _bitch_.

Quinn frowned and reached across the table to touch her hand, "Don't do that. I'm not the same person I was in high school Rachel and I'm sure you aren't either. There's no need for us to fall back into old habits with the name calling and the snide comments." She paused, "You're right, we never_have_ been friends, but I'd like us to be, if you want."

Rachel stared at her, perplexed by the sincerity in her tone. "You would? Why?"

Quinn took her time answering.

"Because from what I gather from Kurt, you've become somewhat isolated from your friends and I think that what you desperately need, especially now, is a woman to talk to." Quinn picked up her own abandoned coffee and took a sip of the lukewarm beverage, "Kurt's great and the two of you seem very close, but he's never been in your situation; pregnant, scared and alone." Her voice had lowered and Rachel could see the blonde's eyes mist in remembrance before she blinked rapidly and her green orbs cleared.

"I'm not going to pretend I agree with abortion, but I am a good listener. I won't judge you. Whatever you say to me will be kept just between us. I won't tell Puck."

Rachel bit her lip, scratching the seam of her paper cup with her nail. A confidante would be wonderful, she acknowledged. Quinn was right, as much as Kurt tried to understand, he just wasn't able to. The offer was tempting.

"Do you promise?" she asked quietly, "to keep whatever I tell you to yourself and not disclose the information, even to Finn?"

Quinn hesitated, 'Well I wont outright lie to my husband should he ask, but you know Finn, he tends to be oblivious to most things." They shared a smile and Rachel blew out a breath, leaning back in her chair.

"I suppose…I just don't know what to do," she admitted quietly, "I know what I should do, but-" her eyes dropped to the cup in her hands and she stared at it for a long while.

Quinn watched her sympathetically, watching the play of emotions across the other woman's face. There was anxiety, guilt, fear – and she thought a flash of longing? That was unexpected, she couldn't be sure.

"Tell me about Michael." Quinn invited, thinking perhaps they needed to ease into the discussion. "It seems to me that in this whole situation, the biggest loss you might have to face is your marriage. I gather though, that you're having problems or else you and Puck wouldn't have ended up in bed together in the first place."

"You're right," Rachel agreed, "Michael…" she thought hard for a moment before her eyes rose and met Quinn's. "I don't really know where it went wrong. He used to be so different. When I first met him, we were just a couple of college kids with big dreams and a heap of determination."

"Was it love at first sight?" Quinn wanted to know. She had heard unflattering things from both Puck and Kurt about the way the producer treated his wife, but Rachel had once been such a strong willed and determined individual - Quinn couldn't imagine her willingly taking such a submissive role in her marriage. Surely the man must have some redeeming qualities, ones that had attracted her to him in the first place?

Rachel laughed, "Oh no." she shook her head, a genuine smile curving her full lips, "He called me a spoiled diva and I thought he was a pretentious New York Trust Fund snob whose knowledge about the theatre was limited at best, but he proved me wrong."

Rachel told Quinn about how the early years in their relationship, Michael had refused to take his parents money and they had lived on a dime, in a tiny studio apartment above a Chinese restaurant on the Lower East Side. She was fresh out of Julliard, auditioning for any part she got wind of, singing her heart out to directors and producers and getting nowhere, while Michael was finding work on Broadway in any capacity possible, coffee boy, scene painter, theatre usher…he worked from the ground up, soaking in every piece of the industry he could.

"And one day, it just all came together." Rachel sighed, fixing her attention to a spot over her companion's shoulder as she revisited her past. "Suddenly it was Michael calling the shots, wining and dining directors and investors. We moved into Greenwich Village and got a decent sized one bedroom apartment and he proposed to me the night I got my first lead part – Ali in Mamma Mia. It wasn't my dream role, obviously, but it was a start. In no time at all, people knew who we were. There wasn't a party we weren't invited to and then-"

"And then?"

Rachel paused, taking a deep breath. Her gaze focused on Quinn, "And then, one night he just didn't come home. I had an early call the next day and wanted an early night, so Michael had attended a function on his own. In the morning, I found lipstick on his collar and a pink lace thong in his pants pocket." Her eyes glazed over in pain and Quinn squeezed her hand in silent support. Rachel smiled weakly. "We were never the same after that."

Quinn shook her head incredulously, "Did you confront him?"

"Of course!" Rachel defended, "I staged an almighty fit over it. He denied it, saying it must have been one of his friends staging a prank…but I knew, a woman _always_ knows. The late nights, the casting calls at odd times over weekends, the unfamiliar perfume in his car…several of his women have taken great pleasure in documenting their affairs with him, sending me pictures and hotel receipts."

"Why would they do that?" Quinn gasped, horrified.

Rachel glanced at her levelly. "To undermine my self confidence of course. The auditioning process is quite cut throat – in the beginning we all pretty much stoop to any level to gain an edge over a competitor."

"His infidelity is somewhat of a joke amongst the Broadway set; it isn't an uncommon occurrence for people to see him dining with some buxom young starlet."

Quinn clucked her tongue, "And you've just taken it? All this time?"

She shrugged, "I just…I don't have any of the fight left in me." She sounded so defeated. "Nothing I say makes a difference. I've cried, I've screamed, I've begged him to spare me the humiliation…" Rachel let her sentence drift off. "I suppose I became numb to it all. I've grown accustomed to living in the background of my own marriage, of feeling unwanted and undesirable."

"And then, Puck?" Quinn prompted, taking the segue that was offered.

Rachel nodded, "And then there was Noah." She exhaled heavily. "It was crazy you know? We all met up for drinks that night and there he was - smirking that infuriating smirk and touching me with those _beautiful_ hands." She flushed slightly under the gleam of curiosity in Quinn's gaze.

"I don't think I've ever - " she bit her lip and shook her head, "Not like that anyway. It was like my whole body was on fire and it was a release only he could give me. The way he looked at me…" she suppressed a shiver and Quinn leant forward eagerly, not wanting to miss a word.

"I knew what I was doing was wrong, but I couldn't bring myself to care. It was worth it." Rachel admitted unashamedly.

"I always knew the rumors were true. He really is that good." Quinn marvelled, almost enviously and Rachel looked at her in surprise.

"Surely you know he is; you and Noah have had sex too."

"Once." Quinn reminded her, "And I was upset about Finn at the time and a virgin don't forget. It wasn't…_bad_. But I was so nervous and it wasn't anything like what you describe."

Rachel was looking at her with wide eyes, "Only once? But you and Noah dated for a while during your pregnancy. Are you saying you didn't -"

Quinn was shaking her head. "No."

"Oh." Rachel pondered that. "Well," she smiled wryly, "you missed out."

They burst into giggles at that, of the ridiculousness of the moment. They were two former adversaries sharing intimidate details about a man who had inadvertently fathered both of their babies. The seriousness of the situation was not forgotten but it was a relief to find amusement in something, if only for a moment.

When they had sobered, the conversation got back to topic.

"It sounds to me Rachel, as though you know your marriage is over." Quinn stated gently.

Rachel nodded, "I-I do." She admitted. "It's been over for a long time."

"Then why have you stayed? Does Michael really have that much of an influence over casting on Broadway? I read the papers Rachel; they all say that there hasn't been a talent like yours on the stage in decades. Surely your career can withstand a divorce."

Rachel shook her head sadly, "It won't, I'm sure of it. If my affair with Noah became public knowledge and it was discovered I was pregnant to a man that wasn't my husband…let's just say, Michael wouldn't suffer the humiliation well."

"Like you have been humiliated? It sounds to be like Michaels philandering is a huge joke at your expense among the Broadway elite." Quinn was suitably outraged on Rachel's behalf. "If you ask me, it couldn't have happened to a nicer guy." She drawled sarcastically.

Rachel smiled slightly, "Two wrongs don't make a right Quinn. Michael's infidelity doesn't excuse my own." She wasn't proud of her infidelity.

Quinn huffed then sighed, "Ultimately, you're not really concerned about leaving your husband, as your marriage is hardly salvageable at this point. So the decision comes down to your career or the baby."

Rachel smoothed a hand unconsciously over her stomach, "Yes."

Silence stretched between the two women and Rachel watched Quinn's face. She looked sad, as though she already knew the outcome and was mourning the life that would never be. Rachel thought she knew too.

"I don't want to hurt him." She whispered, feeling the tears spring to her eyes.

"He's already hurting." Rachel flinched at the blunt response and Quinn leaned over to take her hand. She squeezed her fingers. "I'm sorry. No judgement. It's just that I know Puck would be an amazing Dad." Quinn stated simply and Rachel nodded.

"I have no doubt about that. I have every confidence in Noah's parental abilities. I just-" she paused, trying to gather her thoughts. "I can't believe I'm even in this situation." she laughed weakly.

"It seems so surreal. Noah and I haven't had any contact since graduation and after one night, I can't stop…" she trailed off, breathing deeply through her nose. "I care about him. I always have, but now," Rachel shook her head, pursing her lips.

"Is it insane that I've thought about it?" she asked Quinn, her brow furrowed.

Quinn stayed silent, letting Rachel make sense of her minds inner musings.

"I've let myself think about how we would go about it, logistically, raising a child together. We don't even know each other anymore, not really, yet sometimes I think-"

When she broke off, Quinn cocked her head to the side, "You think what?"

Rachel's dark eyes met Quinn's green ones and she felt a tear slide down her cheek. She shook her head, not ready to admit out loud what she hadn't even admitted to herself.

"I'd miss him." She said instead, feeling her heart tighten at the thought of losing him, for real this time, knowing that she hadn't really had him to begin with. It hurt more than she was expecting.

The anguish on her face had Quinn blinking back tears of her own and reaching for Rachel's shoulders, hugging her over the small table between them. "It'll be alright Rachel. You need some more time, but I'm sure that in the end, things will work out for the best."

Rachel was momentarily taken aback by the blonde's show of emotion and the tenderness of the hand smoothing over her hair, before she gave in and slumped against her, letting her tears flow.

Quinn had been right, there was no substitute for a woman's compassion and Rachel was thankful to now call her a friend. She had a feeling that soon, she wouldn't have many of those to count on.

Puck was watching TV with his feet on the coffee table - some documentary about the migration of birds - when Finn ambled into the room from the stairs that led down to the workshop.

"S'up slacker? I know its Friday, but it's like, 2pm. Why aren't you working?" Finn asked with a grin, sinking into an armchair adjacent to where Puck was sitting.

He shrugged, "Didn't feel like it." He replied listlessly, staring at the flat screen unseeingly, his fingers tightening in the cell phone in his hand. "I could ask you the same question," he turned his head to stare at his friend. "What are you doing here?"

Finn thought about inventing some excuse, feeding him a line about being in the neighborhood or dropping by to talk about his son's baseball team Puck helped him coach every Saturday morning. But Finn had never been good at subterfuge, he found it too confusing trying to keep stories straight and figure out what information to share and what to keep to himself.

"Quinn went to see Rachel on Monday." He got straight to the point.

Puck swore, shooting a glare at his best friend. "Damn it Hudson! I told her I didn't want her to go anywhere near Rachel with her snarky attitude. Can't you keep your woman under fucking control?"

Finn shrugged easily, unfazed by Puck's sudden flare of anger. "I dunno man, Quinn said they had a good talk. They're like, friends or something. They've been gabbing to each other on the phone non-stop since."

Puck rolled his eyes, "Fucking perfect. Comparing notes were they? 'Oh you didn't want his baby? Me neither.' That's great - best news I've heard all day." He brooded, slumping down into the couch cushions and glancing down at his cell phone one last time before throwing it to the side. She wouldn't call him back anyway. He'd been leaving Rachel messages all week and she had taken her sweet ass time replying to any of them.

"C'mon man, it's not like that." Finn said comfortingly, "Quinn said Rachel's really torn up. She hasn't decided yet, either way."

Puck looked up sharply. Whenever Rachel had actually answered her phone it was always with a sigh and a _"Noah,__please.__Don't__make__this__difficult_." Puck was sure she had already made the up her mind, she was just putting off telling him what it was she had decided. But if she'd said something to Quinn to make her think that maybe keeping it was a possibility…

"She said that, that she might want to have the baby?"

Finn saw the spark in Puck's eyes and didn't want him to give him false hope.

"Not in so many words, but Quinn did say that Rachel wasn't worried about her marriage. Rachel told Quinn it was over with the douche but that she wasn't sure she could give up her career."

"Her fucking career," Puck was really getting sick of hearing the same refrain.

He understood, he did. Rachel had never wanted anything more than she wanted Broadway, but she had it, she was living that dream already. He'd seen her up on that stage and she was fucking amazing, he wasn't the only one he thought so. Puck had a hard time believing that Michael really had the power to take it all away from her.

As much as he hoped that didn't happen, the flipside was that she was carrying his baby. Her career meant that tiny little fetus most likely had an expiration date on its development and every time he thought about her aborting their baby, he wanted to vomit.

Finn watched the way his friend's eyes had darkened and he asked tentatively, "Have you spoken to Rachel at all since she told you?"

Puck shrugged, "Not really. Every time I try and talk to her about it, she cuts me off. She says that she needs to think and me calling her all the time is confusing her."

"Well how many times have you phoned her?" Finn wanted to know.

"Only a couple of times," Puck replied defensively. At Finn's sceptical look he admitted, "…a day."

Finn snorted. "She might have a point." He reasoned, "She's got a lot to consider. You made it clear that you want her to have the baby, now you gotta let her decide what she wants for herself."

"Well fuck, I just want to make sure she doesn't need anything. Until she decides otherwise, she's got my kid in her belly. I just want to know that she's taking care of herself."

He sighed wearily, tilting his head back and closing his eyes. "I keep calling her so she knows she's not in this alone. If I keep my distance, all she's going to do is think about everything she's giving up and then that baby doesn't have a chance."

Finn tried to gauge exactly what his friend was going through but he had to admit he didn't understand. The closest he could get to feeling the loss Puck might have to face, was when it was revealed that Drizzle wasn't his baby, all those years ago. It had hurt and he had grieved for a child he would never know - but he'd still been a part of it, on the sidelines.

He'd watched Quinn as her pregnancy progressed and stared at that perfect little girl from behind the glass in the maternity ward. Beth had been adopted in the end – by Rachel's mother no less – but at least they knew she was out there, healthy and happy.

He couldn't imagine how Puck must be feeling, worrying that Rachel might consciously decide to end her pregnancy.

"You want it, don't you? The baby I mean." Finn asked quietly.

Puck opened his eyes and looked at him. "Yeah man, I do."

"Why?"

Puck scowled, "What do you mean why? It's my kid."

Finn held up his hands, as if to ward off his friends anger. "I get that Puck, I know that if Rachel has the baby you'll be there, that you'd do right by them. But don't you think it might be easier if she didn't have it? I mean, she's married dude." He paused, letting that sink in. "You two had a weird flirtation thing going in high school but besides that one night together, you haven't seen each other in 10 years. It's not the easiest of situations you've got yourself into. Why are you pushing her so hard to go through with it?"

He didn't have an answer readily available. It wasn't like he was against pro choice. Truthfully, the first thing he thought when he had found out that Quinn was pregnant all those years ago was_fucking__hell,__I__hope__she__gets__rid__of__it._

Objectively, yes it would be easier if Rachel decided to get an abortion. Finn was right - they hadn't been in contact for years and suddenly here they were, together, facing the most important decision they'd ever have to make.

He'd always been a devoted bachelor and not once in his 28 years had the thought of marriage and kids seriously crossed his mind. But from the instant she had uttered those two words, '_I'm__pregnant'_, he couldn't think of anything else. He thought it might have something to do with her, with Rachel.

He'd always been somewhat of a wild card. For the longest time, Puck was the badass, the loser, the punk kid whose future prospect's seemed limited to alcoholism or a career as a cashier at the local Lima gas station. In short, the expectations people had for him were either non existent or very, very low. Aside from his mother, Rachel was the only exception to the 'Puck is a Lima loser' school of thinking.

After the short week that they had dated, Rachel had looked past his bull shit and seen that underneath his rough exterior, he was just a boy who didn't know any better. He hadn't known what it meant to be a man, having no role model in his life that had bothered to show him how. He didn't realize that he could break free of the stereotype and the role that he had allowed people to cast him in.

Rachel pushed him, demanded more from him and refused to let him loiter in mediocrity. All it had really ever taken was her blinking her big brown eyes at him and murmuring a disappointed _"Noah.."_ and he was picking up his game, turning in his homework and trying his best to keep the dumpster tossing and freshman wedgies to a minimum.

When she had heard his less than stellar grade point average might make him ineligible for football and Glee in his junior year, she'd taken it upon herself to draw him up a study schedule and hand write hundreds of flash cards, accosting him at home, during free periods and at lunch, forcing him to study with her until his grades had improved.

"You're better than this Noah," she had moaned when she told him under no uncertain terms that she was his new tutor. She'd been waving a biology test that he'd flunked spectacularly in his face at the time. Weeks later, when he had sauntered up to her at her locker and presented her with his latest paper - one he'd managed an A minus on - the squeal she'd let out had almost deafened him. Rachel had thrown herself into his arms and hugged him tight, and the "I knew you could do it," that she'd whispered in his ear had stuck with him all these years later.

It had felt good, having someone believe in him and he thought that maybe, her pregnancy wasn't just a result of their irresponsibility with birth control. The good Lord had given him a sign once - to get into her pants. Yes it might have taken longer than expected to check her off his to do list, but maybe it had happened for a reason. Maybe, _just__maybe_, this baby was another sign, telling him that they were supposed to be together.

Just because he'd never seriously entertained the idea of marriage and kids, didn't mean he didn't want that, someday. He liked kids and honestly, having a chick as hot as Rachel waiting at home for him with an equally gorgeous kid on her hip, with features that were a perfect combination of hers and his wasn't the worst thought in the world.

He smiled briefly at that notion. Like Rachel Berry would wait around at home for anybody. Most likely, it would be him acting as the house husband while she breezed in and out from theatre and dance rehearsals, bestowing parting kisses and lecturing him on proper nourishment for growing children. That idea didn't suck either, because both those scenarios saw him with a kid - their kid.

Suddenly, Puck leapt to his feet, grabbing for his jacket as he headed for the door.

"Hey! Where you going man?" Finn called after him in surprise.

"I gotta go dude, I've gotta tell her that I…"

"That you love her?" Finn suggested when Puck stopped by the door.

Puck shot him a look, "I don't love her," he scoffed. It was much to early for that. "I just need her to know that-" again he paused.

"Fuck!" he cursed, unsure of what the hell he'd say to her if he got her to hear him out for more than five seconds. "FUCK!"

Finn took pity on him, "You need to tell her that if she decides to go through with it, you're behind her one hundred percent." He prodded. "I know you've told her you'll support her, but Quinn says the scariest thing for Rachel is that going through with the pregnancy means all her security will be stripped away. I think if you told her how involved you'd be, financially, emotionally and everything, it might help."

Puck stared at his friend until the taller man shifted uncomfortably.

"Shit Hudson, when the fuck did you get smart?"

Finn smiled and shrugged, "it comes and goes," he said self depreciatively.

Puck grinned, armed now with a plan and a purpose. "Thanks dude. I'll catch ya later."

And with that, he was out the door.

Kurt had just arrived home from the office and was rifling through his mail when the intercom buzzed. Picking out an eye catching fuchsia envelope from the pile and inspecting the return address, he crossed over to the intercom panel and jabbed at a button. "Speak"

"Hummel? It's Puck, let me up."

Kurt started at the husky command that filtered down the line and automatically complied, wondering what on earth Noah Puckerman was doing visiting him at 6pm on a Friday night and how his former classmate even knew where to find him.

When a sharp knock sounded on his door, he rushed over to pull it open. Puck didn't bother with a hello or wait for an invitation before he stalked his way into the small foyer.

"Please, do come in." Kurt drawled sarcastically as he shut the door behind his guest and turned towards him. "To what do I owe this unexpected honor?" he asked curiously, tossing the forgotten envelope onto the hall table.

"Where's Berry at?" Puck asked without preamble. "I've been trying her cell phone for the last hour and according to the unhelpful bitch at her apartment, she's not there either."

Kurt's eyes widened. "You went to the penthouse? Are you insane? Rosa, Rachel's housekeeper, is sneakier than the Russian KGB; she makes sure Michael knows about every breath Rachel takes in that apartment. Having a strapping young hunk like yourself show up looking for her is going to cause more trouble for our little Diva than you can possibly envision."

Puck rolled his eyes, "Chill Beyonce," he smirked, "I told the old bat I was a delivery boy with a script for a top secret project that only she could sign for. I shoved a couple motocross magazines into a manila envelope to make it look authentic."

Kurt groaned, pressing the heel of his palms to his eyes, "Dear Lord, it's a good thing you look the way you do Puckerman, because you sure aren't going to make it in the world on your intelligence alone."

Puck got the distinct feeling he was being insulted. "I thought my cover was brilliant."

Kurt looked at him pityingly and spoke to him as though he were five years old. "Do you think there is any aspect of Rachel's career than her overbearing, yet admittedly business-savvy husband doesn't know about? You picked the worst possible cover story imaginable. You've no idea how many red flags you've just set off."

Puck shrugged, "Whatever dude, where is she?"

The designer huffed, brushing past him as he walked in the direction of his kitchen, with Puck trailing, to retrieve a Perrier which he then poured into a chilled glass. "Rachel and Michael are attending a charity function at the Plaza at eight o'clock tonight, so I imagine she has been at the salon all afternoon."

"Charity function," Puck mused thoughtfully. That could work - he could slip in and discreetly take her aside to plead his case. "Do you need an invitation or can I crash it?"

Kurt was mid sip and as Puck's words registered, he choked. "Excuse me? Crash it? You don't _crash_ an event at the Plaza." He stressed, setting his glass down and resting his palms on the counter. "In any case, you showing up there is the worst idea I've heard all day and I had one of my staff today suggest I use crushed velvet as the focal point of our next show." Kurt shuddered in remembrance before focusing back on Puck. "Rachel's hanging by a thread as it is, the last thing she needs is having you and Michael in the same room as each other. That's a disaster just waiting to happen."

"I'm not going to cause a scene," Puck claimed, "I just need to talk to her."

"Well it will have to wait."

Puck ran a hand through his hair in agitation. "No, this can't wait! Shit Hummel, she's been avoiding me all week and I can't take it anymore. I need to say my fucking piece." His voice had risen steadily until it vibrated around the rafters, disguising the sound of the front door opening and Kurt's partner Brad hurrying to the kitchen.

"Everything ok, hon?" He asked cautiously, circling around the counter to stand protectively behind Kurt, eyeing Puck with a frown.

"Of course." Kurt took a moment to smile reassuringly at his lover, "Brad this is Puck, Rachel's baby daddy."

Brad's expression cleared, "Ah, I've heard a lot about you." He leaned over the bench that separated them and held out a hand that Puck shook, reluctantly.

"Hey," he muttered giving the other man a once over. Brad was tall, taller than Puck by at least 4 inches, with broad shoulders and shortly cropped blonde hair. He was conventionally handsome in a boy band sort of way, and was wearing an expensive suit that screamed 'I make more money in a week than you make in an entire year'. Objectively, it looked as though Kurt had done well for himself.

"Puck is here looking for Rachel." Kurt supplied, looking up at his partner. "He wants to gate crash the function at the Plaza tonight so he can talk her into having the baby."

Brad snorted and opened the fridge, snagging two beers and handing one to Puck who accepted it gratefully. "Good luck getting past security in that flannel." He gave the grease stained shirt Puck wore beneath his old leather jacket a derisive look.

Puck sighed, taking a long pull from the bottle. "I gotta talk to her." He reiterated seriously. "And you two have to help me do it."

Brad leaned his hip against the bench, "You can take my invite." He offered, "I have no intention of spending my Friday night with a bunch of old fossils. The New York society scene has become such a bore."

Kurt nodded in agreement, "You're right, I think Thai and a DVD is a much better option, although I hate to leave Diva to fend for herself. She hates those events even more than we do."

"Which is why you should let me go instead," Puck cajoled, "I can save her from the boredom."

"How?" Kurt demanded, "By accosting her at a public event with your own agenda, where anyone could overhear you? Don't be so daft Puck, you know you need to tread carefully, if this blows up-"

"Calm down sweetie," Brad soothed, rubbing his shoulder comfortingly. "I know you're worried about Rachel, but haven't we agreed that this guy here," he nodded in Puck's direction, "Is a blessing in disguise? Rachel's never been as close to leaving Michael as she is now, shouldn't we be helping him?"

Puck grinned. He was liking this dude more and more.

"C'mon man, help me out." He held Kurt's gaze. "Your boyfriend here makes a good point. You want Rachel to dump the tool she hitched herself to? Well I'm your best shot at making that happen."

Kurt was undecided. He had thought that her affair with Puck hadn't come at a better time and secretly he was hoping Rachel would choose to keep the baby and end her marriage, but he still thought it was too risky to have Puck corner her at the event tonight. He was a loose cannon and they couldn't risk the secret coming out before Rachel was ready to deal with the fall out.

Puck could see Kurt was struggling with the decision to buy into his admittedly flawed plan. He had to get Hummel onto Team Puck.

"Kurt" he addressed his old teammate seriously, "I don't know how much Berry has told you about what she's going to do, but I can't let her make the decision without having all the facts."

Kurt arched his brow, still needing to be convinced. "Which are?"

"Which are," Puck retorted, "that she can count on me; I know when the shit hits the fan that she thinks she's going to be left with nothing, but I'll give her everything I've got." He promised sincerely, "She and the baby will have whatever they need."

"And I think her having the baby is the best thing. She's not happy, she just thinks she is because she gets to sing and see her name up there in lights, but the Douche is draining her. Pretty soon she's going to be a shadow of the old Rachel Berry we both knew and as fucking annoying as she could be back then, she was also fucking spectacular."

"She was," Kurt agreed softly, pursing his lips in contemplation as he thought it over. "Ok Puck, I'll help you. You can take Brad's invite and go talk to her," at Puck's victorious smile, Kurt continued, his voice raised an octave above what it was. "But - you _will_be discreet. You will not raise your voice. You will not touch her in any way that will draw attention to the two of you, and Puckerman," his voice lowered threateningly, "if she ends up on the phone with me in tears as a result of something you have said or done, and I have to make my way to _Brooklyn_ of all places, just so I can kick your ass, you'll be sorry."

Puck nodded, enthusiastically agreeing to Kurt's terms. "No prob, I'll be good, I promise."

Kurt nodded as well before letting his eyes wander over the impressive, but poorly dressed hunk of man before him. "Alright then, let's get you pretty."

Puck liberated a glass of champagne from the tray that was passing his nose, taking a sip as his sharp gaze surveyed the room. There must be a couple of hundred people there, at least, and he had yet to spy the diminutive brunette he was seeking.

He ignored the less than subtle attempts at conversation a fit looking, fifty-something blonde was directing at him, intently focused on his task. He was blinded by the glitz and glamour of the room, thinking there was easily a bajillion dollars worth of diamonds on the ears and around the necks of the ladies present, and the money the suits at this event raked in on a yearly basis could easily alleviate third world poverty a thousand times over.

He felt acutely out of place, despite Kurt's proclamation that decked out in a borrowed suit of Brad's, he could certainly pass for one of them. Uneasily, he knew there was dried paint on his dented silver watch and he was carrying less than twenty bucks in cash in his wallet. Puck didn't belong here.

Just as his resolve was wavering, it seemed like a sea of people parted and there she was in his line of sight. His eyes lingered on her profile as she smiled slightly at something a silver haired lady was animatedly describing.

She was wearing a high necked, form fitting black dress that hugged her curves and flared slightly at her knees to fall to the floor. Her dark hair was curled and pinned into a loosely swept up do, strands of which had escaped their pins to frame her face.

Rachel turned slightly to her left as another of her companions spoke, showing Puck that the dress was entirely backless, dipping so low he could see the dimples right above her ass cheeks.

As his gaze bore into her, Michael sidled up to her side, placing his large hand on the small of her back and handing her what looked to be a mimosa.

Puck clenched his teeth as he slowly walked towards them, taking care to stick close to the wall and the perimeter of people. As he got closer, he saw Michael's fingers trace lazy patterns on the naked expanse of her skin and the asshat's head dip down as he whispered something in her ear.

He felt the possessiveness well up inside of him as he observed the intimacy of the action, and he flexed his fists, employing every ounce of self control to keep from marching over there and tearing Rachel from her husband's side. He promised Kurt he wouldn't make a scene, but he hadn't realized until now how difficult that promise would be to keep.

Rachel's fingers tightened on her untouched glass as she felt Michael's cool hand move over her back in a surprising – and unwelcome - gentle caress. She looked up at him and arched her brow, her eyes dark and reproachable.

"What?" He murmured lifting his own glass to his lips. "You could at least pretend you're having a good time."

"As you take great pains to remind me," Rachel returned icily, "I'm not that good an actress."

All week she had been pleasant and agreeable - every inch the dutiful wife.

Until yesterday.

She had stopped by his office with the lunch she had so thoughtfully picked up for him and walked in unannounced, only to find him reclining in his desk chair with his pants around his ankles and an unidentified red head eagerly lapping at his cock.

Needless to say, things had been tense in the Berry-Weitzmann household since.

"Well try," he ordered, his voice soft but harsh in her ear. "There are dozens of investors present tonight and you would do well to remember you are currently out of work, so I suggest you lose the fucking sour expression and make some semblance of an effort to engage people in conversation."

Rachel swallowed the retort she so desperately wanted to unleash and gave him a false smile, baring her teeth more than anything. "So sorry darling, of course you're right." She simpered, her eyes flashing. "I see Joseph Torrino's wife over there – she made a point to seek me out after the last show to tell me she was hoping she would be given the opportunity to be involved in my next play. I'll go and chat shall I?"

Michael's eyes narrowed, "Do that." He urged and before Rachel could make her getaway his hand slipped to her elbow, turning her firmly so his mouth could descend firmly on hers. She forced herself to remain still when her instincts were screaming at her to bury her knee in his crotch, and a few seconds later it was over.

She spun blindly away from him, just as the loud sound of shattering glass could be heard. She looked up, startled, and found her gaze locked on a pair of familiar hazel eyes; a very angry pair of familiar, hazel eyes.

_Noah_.

Rachel glanced back at Michael, panicked, but he was talking to a portly gentlemen she didn't recognize, oblivious to the commotion that apparently was Noah colliding with a waiter and a full tray of Dom Perignon. She looked back only to see him pivoting on his heel, paying no heed to the gaping waiter or the dozen smashed crystal flutes at his feet as he stalked away.

Rachel immediately followed, at a more sedate pace, keeping her eyes fixed on his broad shoulders. As he exited the ballroom, with her 15 feet behind, she felt a restraining hand on her elbow and looked around to find an old cast mate of hers from West Side Story exclaiming excitedly that it was fantastic to run into her.

Rachel extracted herself from the conversation politely, stating she needed to step outside to make a phone call but would be right back. The detainment caused her to lose precious seconds in her pursuit. As she hurried through the large foyer and through the double doors of the entry, she reached the front steps of the hotel in time to see Puck slipping the valet a tip as he slid into a sleek silver Maserati.

Rachel gaped in surprise as the engine roared to life. As she found her voice and called out a desperate, "Noah!" he sped off in a squeal of tires, leaving her to look on after him worriedly.

What was he doing here? In a tux and Brad's beloved car no less? She had known Brad for 5 years and not once had she known of him letting anyone borrow his ride.

She wrenched open her purse and drew out her cell phone, dialling Puck's number and praying he would answer.

Puck fished into the pocket of his dress pants as the familiar chords of his ring tone sounded. Rachel's name flashed across the screen and he sneered, sending her call straight to voicemail. _Fuck__her_, he thought furiously, tossing the phone onto the leather seat beside him. He accelerated dangerously, paying no mind to the speed limits as he changed up a gear and accelerated again.

_Fuck__her_, he thought again. _Fuck__her__all__to__hell_.

Rachel lay awake, staring at the ceiling as the glowing numbers of the alarm clock on the bedside table clicked over to 3:14.

She sighed miserably and licked her dry lips, feeling the movement pull on her tear stained cheeks. She started as her phone beeped and an incoming message lit up the screen, illuminating the room.

She grabbed for the device and eagerly opened the message.

_**Did u fuck him?**_

Rachel stared at the screen for a minute before typing back.

_**Of course not. Where are you? I've been calling you for hours. We need to talk.**_

Almost immediately, he replied.

_**Outside. come down**_

She pushed off the covers and slid a pair of loose sweatpants over her cotton panties and a matching zip up hooded sweatshirt over her pink tank top, even as she hurriedly punched out:

**_You__shouldn't__be__here__Noah,__we__could__get__caught_.**

A second later, she followed that with:

_**Don't move. I'll be right there.**_

She held her breath as she exited the guest room and crept past the master bedroom, listening for Michael's heavy snores. At the front door she slipped her feet into white tennis shoes and pocketed her house keys, closing the door gently behind her.

When she stepped off the elevator, she stopped short as she saw Puck leaning against the wall opposite. Rachel took in his dishevelled appearance, the askew tie, the missing suit jacket and the shirt sleeves rolled to his elbows exposing his strong, bronzed forearms.

She looked cautiously towards the front entrance as Puck spoke.

"Don't worry about the doorman. He went on his break."

"How do you know?" She asked suspiciously.

"Because I bummed his last smoke a few minutes ago and he said he was heading out to the nearest convenience store." Puck returned with a lift of his eyebrow.

She fidgeted with the hem on her sweater. "How long have you been out there?" She wanted to know and he shrugged, pinning her with his gaze. "Noah…" she bit her lip and looked at him helplessly. Once again, she didn't know where to start.

He glared back with a heat that had her swallowing nervously and then, without a word, he crossed over to her in two strides and grabbed her by the hand, dragging her around the corner and pushing through the door that led them into the stairwell.

"Noah!" she said again, this time in objection as she tried to pull away, "What are you-"

Before she got any further he had pushed her against the concrete wall and claimed her lips almost savagely, kissing her hard and gripping her arms so tightly he was sure to leave bruises.

She struggled against his hold, fighting the onslaught of his lips and the invasion of his tongue as he plundered into her mouth, bringing with it the taste of nicotine and Jack Daniels. She mumbled a protest, shoving at him half heartedly, then suddenly his lips softened; his hands slid around to press against her back and hold her close to his body.

His teeth nipped at her bottom lip before her kissed her again, and then again, slower and softer each time. By the time he lifted his head, she was leaning into him, her fingers digging into his forearms as she pressed her breasts against his chest.

"Oh Noah," she sighed this time, burying her face into his neck as she tried to regulate her breathing. Puck's arms encircled her, surrounding her with warmth as he too struggled to catch his breath.

"I can't stand it when he touches you." He growled lowly, slipping his fingers under her sweater to rest against the spot where Michael's hand had been. "I wanted to smash his fucking face in Rachel. How can you let him do it when you're-"

"Pregnant with your baby." She finished for him, stepping back and forcing him to drop his arms. They stared at each other, her pleadingly, wanting him to understand, and him expectantly, needing her to tell him the thing he knew she wasn't going to.

"It was for show Noah, it didn't mean anything." She explained quietly. "Michael was afraid people were going to see that things weren't right with us and that it would affect the investments he was hoping to secure for his next project, that's all."

Puck didn't say anything, his eyes darting from her eyes to her swollen lips and back again. It was then she noticed how dilated his pupils were, and the fact that he seemed to be swaying on the spot.

"Are you drunk?" Her brow furrowed at his nod and she sighed again. "Why are you here? You know it's too risky for you to just show up like this. Michael is right upstairs."

He groaned, rubbing his palm over his tired eyes. "You think I give a flying fuck about that asshole Rachel? Shit! He's a fucking jackass and I wish you'd just make the right decision already and leave him!"

Her eyes widened at his outburst, the ferocity of his words echoing off the concrete walls. She didn't say anything and that seemed to infuriate him more.

"Forget about the baby for a second Rach, what are you going to do? You don't love him, you know you don't. Your marriage is a fucking joke, you admitted that he's doing the dirty on you and you say you two aren't fucking - so what the hell are you holding onto?"

She asked herself the same question all the time.

"Sex isn't everything." Rachel found herself saying petulantly, all the while wondering where she was going with that statement.

"You're wrong." He told her plainly. "It is when you're young and vibrant, and fucking responsive as hell." He pulled her against him, securing her to him with an arm around her waist while his other hand ventured under her sweatpants. He brushed his fingers over her abdomen gently, half expecting her to cover his hand with hers and demand that he stop. She didn't.

"You've got fucking years of hot sex ahead of you before you need to settle with someone who bores you to fucking tears." Puck stroked her through her panties, feeling the material dampen under his touch. "You need to be fucked Rachel." He licked the shell of her ear and felt a shiver pass through her body. "Shit you were _built_ for it." His pushed her panties to one side and slid two fingers inside her, feeling her contract around him as she gasped and clutched at his shoulders.

"You're so hot and wet…he's such a fucking idiot Rach, how could he not want you?" he demanded roughly.

She shook her head weakly, rocking her hips slightly, begging him to move his hand. He did, slowly pumping his fingers in and out as she widened her stance.

Puck covered her mouth with his own mimicking the actions of his hand with his tongue "He doesn't want you." He muttered against her lips, raining desperate kisses over her chin, across her cheeks and down her nose. "_I_ want you."

Rachel let out a strangled sound that was halfway between a sob and a moan and fiddled with his zipper, tugging it down and reaching into his boxer shorts to free his cock from the confines of its satin prison. She pumped her hand up and down his length until he was stiff and pulsating in her grip, before pulling his own hands from her body and dropping to her knees to take him into her mouth.

Puck groaned and threw his head back as she bobbed along his length, licking and sucking as she went. He fisted his hand in her hair and guided her movements, looking down and watching her lips as they stretched around him. Her eyes raised to his and it was too much, seeing her lust filled brown eyes staring up at him as she swallowed and her throat muscles squeezed his dick in the best possible way.

He tugged on her hair until she released him and pulled her to her feet, crowding her with his body until she backed towards the wall. He tried to step with her but the pants bunched around his ankles made him stumble and pitch forward. Rachel's head connected hard with the brick and she let out a pained "Omph," as he fell into her, pressing her against the cold concrete wall.

"Shit, are you ok, baby?" His hand cupped the back of her head, rubbing it gingerly.

"Yes," she assured him breathlessly, "But I don't think this is going to work so well for us."

Before he could ask what she meant, she had pushed past him and crossed over to the banister. She tossed him a look over her shoulder before she shimmed out of her sweatpants and bent over, resting her hands on the second metal railing experimentally and thrusting her tight little ass in the air.

"Better," she decided, straightening and turning towards him. Her gaze met his, tentative now as she unzipped her sweatshirt and shrugged out of it before hooking her fingers into her panties and sliding them down her legs. She knew she should put a stop to this madness, but she couldn't help herself. She wanted him.

Puck was watching her through hooded eyes and when she smiled uncertainly at him and stood there in nothing more that a pink cotton tank top, her nipples straining against the thin material, he stepped out of his own pants and was in front of her in less than a second.

Rachel reached on her tip toes and brought his face down to hers for a scorching kiss before spinning around and resuming her position. He gripped her hips entered her without pause, immediately feeling her wet heat envelope him and the force of her pushing back against him with each stroke.

"Fuck Rach," he ground out, digging his fingers into her skin and thrusting harder and deeper. She just moaned in response and tightened her fingers on the banister, tossing her head and closing her eyes as she savoured the delicious feeling of being completely and utterly possessed by him.

After only a few more long strokes, he pulled out and she whimpered in protest.

"No!" she practically wailed, looking at him wildly over her shoulder. "Why are you stopping?"

"I don't want to fuck you like this." He told her looking around the freezing stairwell for a better option. He wanted to see her; the shape of her lips as she gasped out his name, the flush of her cheeks as she got close to her release and the contortion of her features as she came around him.

Rachel pushed the hair out of her eyes, her chest heaving as he surveyed their surroundings. Finally he nodded towards the steps and sat on the third stair up, beckoning her over. She straddled his lap and immediately began work on the buttons of the shirt he was still wearing while he pulled down her tank top, exposing her breast to his greedy gaze.

"Missed you," he mumbled against her collarbone as his mouth moved down, over her chest to take her nipple into his mouth. She knew he was intoxicated, he reeked of whiskey and his movements were just a little bit sloppy – it might be that he didn't really comprehend what he was saying and didn't even mean it, but even so, Rachel's heart seized at his words and she whispered back, "I missed you too."

She rose on her knees and took him into her hand, guiding him inside her as she lowered herself onto him carefully. He helped her establish her rhythm, lifting her by her ass and slamming his hips up to meet her as she bounced in his lap, feeling the head of his penis hit her g-spot with every thrust. She threaded her fingers through his short hair, arching her breasts into his wandering hands as her mouth sought out his, and they exchanged hot, open mouthed kisses.

"Noah…" she gasped loudly, "God Noah, I need you so badly."

His hand left her breast with a parting squeeze and slipped between their bodies so he could tease her clit. Rachel wrapped her arms around his shoulders and rode him faster, swivelling her hips and pressing her face into his neck as her movements reached a near frenzied pace. Minutes later, Puck came without warning, exploding deep inside her with a shout. He thrust deep one last time and kept rubbing her clit roughly in circular motions until she cried out and tightened around him.

He leaned back and she fell with him, their bodies pressed tightly together and their haggard breaths mingling as their lips pressed together once more.

The stairs were digging into his back but he didn't care, he just held her to him feeling her heart pounding against his chest and her soft gasps echoing in his ear.

The slamming of a heavy door from somewhere above had them freezing and staring at each other in shock. The sound of footsteps descending had her pushing off of his chest and reaching frantically for her clothing, tugging her sweatpants and sweatshirt back on with lightening fast speed.

Puck followed suit, shoving one leg into both his boxers and his rumpled pants and then the other, as Rachel retrieved her panties and shoved them into her pocket.

Another door opened and then the footsteps faded. Rachel looked up with wide eyes and let out a sigh of relief as whoever it was had gone. She turned her head to see him doing up his belt and refastening the buttons of his shirt, his head bent as he stared at the concrete floor with intense concentration.

She combed her fingers through her hair and walked slowly towards him.

"Noah, I-"

"Don't." he stopped her harshly. "Don't tell me this doesn't change anything."

She didn't, but she gazed at him with sorrow-filled eyes.

He swore and stepped away.

"Noah _please_." She tried to touch him but he jerked his arm out of her reach.

"Damn it Rachel." He glared at her with a mixture of anger and pain. "I didn't come here for sex. I came here to try and convince you that I'm going to be a good dad; that having this baby with me is the right thing to do."

"You don't need to convince me that you'll be a good father, Noah," she whispered brokenly, "I know you will be." Tears were rolling down her face and she hugged herself against protectively against the fierceness of his gaze. "It's not about you."

He scoffed, "Yeah I get that. It's got nothing to do with me, right? It's about you and _your_ career, and _your_ life. Never mind what I want."

"I do care about what you want." She returned quietly, "I just…"

Puck chuckled darkly. "Sure." He turned and strode over to the exit that would lead him out into the street. "Just call me when you decide ok? And Rach," he waited until she was looking at him before he finished, "put us both out of the misery and make it soon. I can't take much more of this."

The door shut firmly behind him and she looked around the cold, dark stairwell blankly. Rachel felt the sob rise in her throat and she let it out, feeling her knees wobble as the choking sound echoed off the concrete. She sank down onto the step and buried her face in her shaking hands.

He was right; she needed to make a decision. The secret was killing her and she couldn't put him through it any longer, it wasn't fair.

She_would_ make a decision. She just prayed it was the right one.

_**AN2: So what is the right decision? Baby or no baby, what do you think?**_


	7. You're Having My Baby

_**A/N: Wow, thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter. You'll be happy to know I've now made peace with this story and I know where it's heading. I hope you all continue to enjoy it and to those who voted against what I ultimately wrote, there's plenty of angst ahead, don't worry!**_

It didn't take her long to make her decision. In fact, it was easier for her to settle on a course of action than it was to build up the courage to face him after all that had transpired between them on Friday night. She could picture Puck's face as he left her in the stairwell; the tiredness, the anger, the yearning in his eyes. Rachel never wanted to be responsible for putting that look on his – or anyone else's – face ever again.

She held out until Tuesday. It was then that Quinn had either forgotten, or decided to studiously ignore Puck's wishes and had begun hounding her, wanting to know if she was any closer to becoming an honorary Aunt to their child.

"_Puck's__been__spoiling__my__kids__for__years_," Quinn had explained. "_I__can't__wait__until__he__has__one__of__his__own__so__I__can__extract__my__revenge__for__sleepless__nights__and__hours__of__vomiting__after__'Uncle__Puck'__babysat__and__let__my__boys__eat__their__weight__in__sour__gummy__worms."_

Rachel had forced herself to laugh, despite privately thinking Quinn was being a little insensitive. Quinn talking about Puck's future children with a woman who was pregnant with his unplanned baby, who was in the midst of deciding whether said baby would actually come to birth or not, was tactless at best.

When Rachel admitted she had reached a resolution, Quinn has wasted no time in extracting it from her and insisted that she tell Puck immediately. He was coaching her eldest son's soccer team with Finn and there was a game after school, so it was decided Rachel would meet Quinn there and talk to Puck afterwards.

That's how she found herself sitting high on the bleachers at five o'clock that afternoon, amongst a few dozen screaming parents and a few dozen more children of various ages. She felt out of place and sickened with apprehension about the task that loomed ahead of her. She kept her eyes fixed on Noah for the entirety of the game, watching as he interacting with the team, enthusiastically cheering, clapping and calling out encouragement as the group of kids ran up and down the grassy field.

He had on a blue and white jersey with Coach P lettered on the back and a dark blue cap pulled low over his eyes. He slapped high fives with Finn every time the crowd cheered and jumped to their feet and since that coincided with the ball landing neatly in the net, Rachel deduced their side was winning.

She picked at her cuticles and sighed intermittently, attempting half heartedly to participate in conversation with Quinn but falling silent every time she heard Puck's voice or the sound of his laughter carry over the noise of the spectators.

Finally a loud fog horn blared, signalling the end of the game and she slowly rose to her feet. She waited impatiently as the crowd around Finn and Puck took a while to disperse, and after they had exchanged congratulations with the boys on their team and small talk with the parents, Finn walked away to collect protective pads and discarded towels and Rachel saw her opening.

Before she could open her mouth to capture his attention, she felt the slight form of Quinn and Finn's four year old daughter brush past her and she looked on as the little girl ran to Puck's side and threw her arms around his knees.

"Uncle Puck, Uncle Puck! I got a boo-boo!" Charlotte cried, pressing her face into his thighs.

Rachel watched as Puck immediately dropped the soccer ball he had just picked up and after gently detangling her limbs from his legs, he crouched down in front of her.

"What kind of boo-boo, Princess?" he asked, the frown of concern on his face doing funny things to Rachel's heart. "Show me."

Charlotte lifted her arm for his inspection, displaying the nasty bruise developing on the underside of her forearm. "I fell over in Ballet," she told him tearfully, her lower lip trembling as big fat tears rolled down her cheeks.

He brushed back her golden curls and fought back the smile that threatened to bloom on his face. Unfortunately, Charlotte seemed to have inherited Finn's lack of coordination as she was (without a doubt) the worst ballerina in her class, much to her mother's dismay. Fortunately, she had her mother's good looks so she was also (in Puck's totally unbiased opinion) the prettiest.

Puck tugged playfully on her tutu and smiled at her, "Still finding those pirouettes difficult, huh? What can I do?"

She thrust her elbow closer to his face, "Kiss," she demanded bossily, a trait that was all Quinn.

Puck's eyebrow rose and waited until she added a pathetic 'please', before complying.

"There," he said after he'd kissed her boo-boo and then her forehead, "All better. Now, where's your Ma?" He stood and brushed the dirt from his knees before taking the little girl's hand, just as Charlotte pointed in Rachel's direction.

"Over there with Aunt Rachel."

Rachel felt Quinn's hand slip around her waist in silent support as Puck's head shot up sharply at the mention of her name. His hazel eyes locked on her and she bit her lip, wishing her sundress had pockets so she could stuff her shaking hands into them. Instead, she leaned slightly into Quinn's slim frame as she stared back.

Another hand settled on the small of her back and she looked up see that Finn had joined the duo, "Go," he pushed her gently towards Puck. "It'll be alright," he reassured her with a slight smile that told her he too was aware of her decision. She looked uncertainly between her friends.

Quinn nodded encouragingly, "Finn's right. You have nothing to worry about. Just make sure you call me later," the blonde requested before raising her voice.

"Charlotte, it's time to go, your brothers are already in the car. Say goodbye to Uncle Puck, you'll see him later."

Puck tore his gaze from Rachel to stoop down and hug his 'niece' before sending her towards her parents with a light pat on her behind. "Catch ya later, baby girl. We have a play date with Barbie sometime this week, k?"

Charlotte squealed happily and flashed him a wide smile before running to her father who picked her up and swung her into the air. Finn exchanged nods with Puck and reached down for the large equipment bag at his feet, shouldering it easily as he walked away, listening intently to his daughter prattle on about her dance class that afternoon.

Quinn lingered, watching Rachel and Puck gaze at each other for a few uncomfortable minutes before reluctantly following her husband to their car. Finally, Puck bent down and silently continued to pack the soccer balls into his own large canvas bag. When he was done, he walked straight past her and Rachel spun on a sandaled heel to follow.

"Wait! Noah, where are you going?" She hurried after him, curling her hand around his bicep and tugging him to a stop. "We need to talk."

He studied her intently for a moment before dropping the bag with a loud thud and crossing his arms over his broad chest. "About what?" he asked indifferently.

"Noah," her voice was soft, "You know exactly what we need to discuss."

He just stared at her, saying nothing until she took a deep breath and retracted her hand. The warmth of his skin under her palm was distracting to say the least.

"I've made my decision."

His shoulders slumped at her quiet admission and he took two steps, sinking onto a seat on the bleachers and leaning forward so that his elbows rested on his knees.

"Give it to me," he said dully, his head bowed.

Rachel took a minute to gather her thoughts. Surprisingly, she hadn't thought out what she was going to say this time. She hadn't made notes or rehearsed her speech like she had when she had gone to confront him with the news of her pregnancy. She was winging it – a foreign and disconcerting prospect, but that was what her life had become lately, a series of split second decisions that had landed her in this predicament, to this very spot, with Noah.

"All my life I've known where I was going and what I was destined for," she began quietly, "I dreamed about Broadway, about seeing my name up in lights and having people flock to the theatre to see me act, sing and dance. Nothing can compare to the complete exhilaration of hearing a thousand people clapping for _me_. Their rousing applause is the reason I wake up in the morning."

She took a deep breath as Puck's eyes remained fixed on the dirt beneath his shoes. "I worked so hard to get here, Noah. My fathers spent so much money ensuring I had the best training, the best education to pursue what I loved. And I love it," she continued, closing her eyes tightly for a moment feeling a tear slide out of the corner of her eye. "I can't imagine that anything could make me feel as happy and as fulfilled as I do when I walk out the stage door and find a group of fans waiting for autographs and the chance to tell me how much they enjoyed my performance."

"You might think it's an egotistical thing to say," she smiled briefly, "but it's really not. It's _validation_."

Rachel paused, expecting him to jump in and say something, but he remained silent.

"The years I spent being mocked and ridiculed during high school - the slushies and the name calling and the aching…" she stopped again, searching for the appropriate word, "_loneliness_, they just don't matter up there. My talent and my drive aren't out of place here like they were in Ohio. I'm understood here, I _matter_."

"You've always mattered, Rachel." He found himself stating gruffly and she took a half step towards him. He was still refusing to look at her, so she stepped closer still until she was standing between his legs with her hand on his shoulder.

"I didn't always think so, not when I spent so many years being ostracized and bullied because of my dreams. The theatre is my life, Noah. I don't know how to do anything else."

He thought that this was it; he knew what was coming and his gut clenched in trepidation. Rachel felt his shoulders hunch beneath her touch as he tried vainly to prepare himself, so she absently brushed her thumb against his jaw in a comforting manner before sliding her palm around to cup the back of his neck.

"So knowing this, you can imagine that adjusting to life without Broadway is going to take time and I hope you will continue to be as supportive as you have been, as you've _promised_ me that you would be. I'm going to need you, Noah."

His head shot up at that and he locked his wide eyed gaze on hers, "What? Are you-" his clamped his mouth shut, not wanting to shatter the seed of hope she had given him with the last piece of her statement.

"I'm keeping the baby," she whispered with a watery smile.

Puck exhaled heavily, taking his baseball cap off and rubbing a hand over his scalp, not daring to believe that what she was saying was the truth.

"You're sure?" he asked slowly, cautiously.

Rachel nodded, "I've spent the last two weeks believing this situation to be hopeless. I've weighed up the positives and the negatives of going through with the pregnancy and the ramifications a baby and leaving my husband would have on my life and my employability, but really, I just needed to listen to my heart."

She shrugged helplessly, "It's a baby, Noah." Her voice was soft and so full of wonder that Puck couldn't stop himself from reaching for her hand. "I don't know how to be a mother, but…" she trailed off, squeezing his fingers almost painfully as she chewed her lip in thought. "I couldn't live with myself if I just got rid of it. I don't _want_ to. I'm just sorry that it took me so long to figure it out. I'm sorry I had to put you through that when I-"

"It doesn't matter," he interrupted, pulling her forward and wrapping his arms around her waist as he buried his face into her stomach, inhaling the sweet scent of her perfume that clung to the thin material of her dress. He let out an incredulous laugh, "Not now. I can't even…" he shook his head in amazement, "Shit Rach, we're having a baby!"

She ran her fingers through his hair before cradling his head to her stomach, feeling her fears just dissipate – if only for a moment – as she stood, savouring the happiness that was radiating between them. Rachel had no doubt that she'd made the right decision, despite knowing, without a doubt that the hardest part was yet to come.

She had to tell Michael.

***/***

A few hours later, Rachel was turning the key in the lock and stepping inside the foyer of the penthouse with Puck trailing behind her. He had insisted on taking her out to dinner at his favorite Italian place in Brooklyn and they had lingered over gelati, talking about everything and nothing. Now that she had confirmed that she was keeping the baby, he was anxious to ensure she was properly nourished and had watched intently as she ate each mouthful until she had threatened to fling the remainder of her pasta at him if he didn't stop with the staring.

"Kitchen is this way," she gestured to her left, "Can I offer you a beverage? Coffee or juice perhaps? I think I may even have…_Oh_." She stifled a yawn and gave him an apologetic look when he chuckled.

"I've tired you out already have I, Rach?" he teased, "It's only 9:30."

She blushed, "I know, I can't seem to stay awake past 9 o'clock these days unless I nap in the afternoons. It's ridiculous, I'm only in my first trimester - you would think I'd have more energy."

He shrugged, pulling her close with one arm as he brushed her bangs back off her face. He hadn't seemed able to stop touching her that evening; innocent touches - just the squeeze of his hand on hers or the brush of his fingers against her cheek – but then, she didn't seem to mind. "Growing a kid in there takes it out of you I guess." He grinned, poking her gently in the stomach. "Why don't you go ahead to bed and I'll lock up?"

She nodded gratefully, the appeal of snuggling under her duvet was just too tempting, no matter how much she hated to see him leave. "Will we talk tomorrow?" Rachel asked drowsily, feeling her eyelids droop as she yawned again. They'd stuck to neutral topics that evening and hadn't really discussed in detail the baby or what she was going to say to Michael when he returned from his business trip on Friday.

"Yeah, we will." Puck confirmed, pushing her gently in the direction of the hall. She padded slowly toward the guest room – she was still refusing to share the master bedroom with her husband - and pulled on an oversized t-shirt and pajama shorts before heading to the bathroom across the hall to brush her teeth. When she had scrubbed the makeup from her face and applied a light moisturizer, she turned off the bathroom light and returned to her room, stopping short as she saw Puck reclining on the Queen sized bed in nothing but his boxers and a white wife beater, lazily flipping through the channels of the flat screen at the end of the bed with the volume muted.

"What are you doing?" she asked in a voice that was just a little bit shrill, ignoring the fluttering in her stomach as she gazed at his muscular arms. "I thought you had left!"

He shook his head easily, pausing on the Food Network Channel when he saw Bobby Flay wielding a blow torch on Iron Chef America. "Nah, thought I'd crash here tonight,"

Rachel continued to stand there, gaping at him until he finally looked up and cocked his eyebrow in askance. "Whatcha doing, Berry? Get into bed, you look wiped."

"You can't stay here, Noah,"

"Why?" his eyebrow furrowed. "The Douchebag is in LA isn't he? There's no reason why I can't."

"There are plenty of reasons why you shouldn't. Rosa-"

"Your housekeeper?" Puck cut it. At Rachel's nod he shrugged, "I'll be gone before she gets in tomorrow. I'll set the alarm on my phone."

She shook her head, "Noah…."

He clicked off the television and fixed her with his best pleading look, "Let me stay Rach, just for tonight."

"I don't think that-"

"Please, Rachel," he interrupted again, "It doesn't seem real yet, you know? I've woken up every morning these last two weeks believing this was the day you'd call and tell me you'd booked an appointment at the fucking abortion clinic. I just don't want to be away from you right now."

Well when he put it like that, how could she refuse? She relented with a small sigh and crossed over to the bed, "Fine, but that's my side. Move over."

He grinned victoriously and scooted to the right, lifting the covers for her to slide under before wiggling underneath the heavy duvet himself. When they had both turned the lamps off on their respective sides, he turned onto his stomach, his head resting on the pillow facing hers.

He listened to the rustling of the covers as she got comfortable and then to the sound of her measured breathing.

"Rach?" He felt rather than heard her turn towards him in the dark.

"Yes, Noah?"

"Just….thanks."

She was silent for a moment and then he felt her hand grasping underneath the blankets until she found his. She linked their fingers and rested their joined hands on the small expanse of mattress between them.

"You don't have to thank me," she said quietly.

"Maybe not," he conceded, "but you know I'm going to do everything I can to make sure you don't have any regrets."

She sighed again, heavier this time. "I appreciate that Noah, but I think it's up to me to ensure I learn to live with the decisions I make. I'll never regret our child, I'm certain of that, I'm just apprehensive of what's to come."

"The Douche?"

She felt the smile tug on her lips, 'The Douche' was what he insisted on continually referring to her husband as and it really shouldn't amuse her as much as it did.

"Yes,"

"It'll be alright Rach, I'm here for whatever you need. I can be with you when he comes home on Friday if you want. Hell, it'll be my pleasure to deliver the news myself as I'm throwing your bags into the back of my truck."

His tone was smug and entirely inappropriate.

"No, I'll tell him myself. I think you being here would just make it worse,"

"You think? My bet is that it's gonna be a shit storm no matter how he finds out."

Rachel closed her eyes against the barrage of possibilities that entered her mind; she had imagined every possible reaction that Michael might have to her news and was no closer to guessing what he was going to say. She was tired, so unbelievably tired of worrying. It had only been a few weeks since the tests had proved her one night with Noah had left her pregnant with his baby, but it already felt like a lifetime. The weight of everything pressed down so heavily on her she didn't think she could stand it much longer.

She wanted to be out of this apartment, away from Michael and the emotional upheaval he caused her just by inhabiting the same space as she did. She wanted it to be over.

Puck heard her breath hitch and must have sensed her tenuous hold on her composure because he rolled towards her and wrapped her up in his arms, tucking her head under his chin.

"One week Rach and this will all be behind you," Puck promised. "You just gotta hold it together a couple more days, ok?"

She nodded jerkily against his chest and he held her tighter as he felt the wetness of her silent tears soak the front of his wife beater. He raked his fingers through her hair and pressed his lips to her temple.

"I've thought about leaving him every day for the last two years," she whispered after a few minutes, "If I hadn't gotten pregnant I'm not sure that I would have had the courage to ever do so."

"You're wrong," he argued quietly, "You're strong Rach. It might have taken a while but you would have told him to fuck off eventually."

She was shaking her head, her face still pressed into his undershirt, "I'm not strong, Noah. Maybe I used to be, but the last couple of years…." He felt her shudder against him, "sometimes, when someone tells you often enough that you aren't anything without them, your confidence wanes and you can help but believe it – despite the multitude of people close to you that tell you otherwise.

"Michael, he-" she paused, "let's just say I was a disappointment as a wife and he never wasted an opportunity to tell me so."

Her admission was punctuated by a shuddering sob and before she could take another breath he had rolled her underneath him and reached out to fumble with the switch on the bedside lamp. It took a few seconds for his eyes to adjust to the brightness but when he did he cupped her face and kissed her firmly. It might have been the tears, or the way she had trembled in his arms but her words were like a slap in the face to him and he wanted nothing more than to rid her of the notion that she wasn't good enough for the biggest asshat he'd ever had the displeasure of knowing.

He felt her pain and he kissed her more insistently, reassuring her with his hands and his lips and his urgent whispers that she was beautiful and talented and worthy of so much more than the dick she had married was capable – or willing – to give her.

Puck knew only too well what it was like to be made to feel like you weren't good enough, when in actuality it was the ones who were striving to make you feel that way that were undeserving of you in the first place.

"He's such a fucking prick, Rachel." He growled into her mouth when they came up for air. Her eyes were dark and soft as they looked up at him.

She reached up and traced his jaw with her thumb, "I'm so thankful for you, Noah. If it was anyone else I would never in a million years made the same decision."

He kissed her palm, "If it was anyone else, you wouldn't be in this situation." He snorted derisively. "I'm such a fuck up Rachel. I should never have fucked you without a condom. You keep on apologizing to me, but I was the one that screwed up here."

"Noah…" Rachel wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pulled him down to her. He leaned on his forearms on either side of her body, supporting his weight so he didn't crush her.

"I really am happy about the baby." She told him seriously. She wanted to make sure he knew that, given she had given him so many opportunities to doubt it over the last few weeks. "I'm stressed and I'm scared, but I know in my heart that you're going to be an exceptionally good father. And although ten years after graduation we're practically strangers to each other, I trust that we can do this, together."

"We can," he confirmed. "I may be a screw up but you'll never doubt my commitment to my family. I'll take care of you, I promise. No matter what."

She acknowledged his statement with a slight nod, adding softly, "You're not a screw up,"

"You're not a disappointment," he retorted, nuzzling her cheek with his nose. His palm touched her abdomen gently before sliding up over her torso, his fingers brushing lightly against her breast.

Rachel bit her lip and moaned, "Please don't Noah," she requested emotionally, "It's too much. Things are so messed up right now and-"

He cut her off with a chaste kiss, "I know, babe." He brushed the hair from her face and kissed her again.

"Friends?" He quirked his eyebrow and she let out a laugh that had him smiling along with her. She deliberately lowered her eyes to his chest and scanned the arms on either side of her that were trapping her against the mattress. Friends was hardly the word she would choose to describe them, but since she couldn't put a label to what they were actually doing, or pinpoint exactly what was going on between them, it sufficed.

"Friends," she agreed, wriggling underneath him. "Now can you get off me?" she asked teasingly, "your baby is exhausted me, I need to rest."

He liked the sound of that, 'your baby'.

His baby; _their_baby. It was becoming more real by the second.

With one final kiss he rolled back to his side of the bed and turned out the light, plunging the room into darkness once more. Rachel curled up against his side and he tucked her closer, his arm coming around her back to secure her in place.

"Goodnight, Noah."

"Night Rach,"

He waited a beat, "Would it be too cutesy for me to say goodnight to the baby?" He wondered out loud.

She giggled, "Yes,"

"Fuck." There was disappointment in his tone.

Silence, and then Rachel was entangling her legs with his as she drew his free hand to rest against her flat belly, offering a quiet, "Goodnight baby,"

He pressed his lips to her forehead before repeating the sentiment, closing his eyes and feeling the contentment buzz pleasantly through his veins. For the first time in a long while, Puck felt everything was alright in his world.

***/***

Rachel woke slowly; yawning as her eyes struggled to open, trying vainly to cling to the last remnants of sleep. Instinctively she turned her head, searching for Noah, but all she was greeted with was the large indent in the pillow next to hers.

The clean, masculine smell of him lingered in the bed sheets, and she rolled over into the space he had occupied, burying her nose in his pillow and breathing in his scent. Because she could remember waking up in the middle of the night to the solid warmth of his body beside hers and the comforting presence of his large hand on her hip, she felt his absence more intensely than she would have anticipated and fought back a wave of disappointment that he hadn't afforded her a chance to say goodbye before he'd left.

A small part of her had imagined waking him up before dawn with the explicit intention of taking advantage of the fact that there was a man in her bed again. But not just any man, him, _Noah_. He had been right, all those weeks ago when he asked her if she'd been lying in bed night after night, recalling the way that he touched her and how he felt inside her.

Rachel shifted restlessly at the thought. _She__had_.

She'd protested his advances the night before, telling him (and herself) that they shouldn't be intimate when things were so unsettled, and she knew that to be the most sensible course of action. But that didn't stop her from picturing, as her eyes fluttered shut, waking him slowly and hearing him moan as she trailed her hands down his stomach to his boxers. She would have caught his gasp of surprise with her mouth as she leaned in to kiss him and felt him grow eager against her thigh when he realized what she wanted.

She sighed and pressed her body into the mattress; her hormones were clearly affecting her rational thought process and she reflected that it was just her luck to have picked (who she considered to be) the sexiest man on the planet to accidentally impregnate her. She wanted him, there was no denying it. It was going to be difficult resisting the temptation his kisses and his body posed, but she had to hold firm. They were going to be parents – they needed to work out how they were going to navigate those particular roles before they complicated their relationship with sex. Well, complicate it any _further_.

She felt her contentment from the night before fade in the harsh morning light, and the familiar gnawing sensation return as her mind insisted on dwelling on her husband and their upcoming confrontation. Rachel felt her chest tighten and she determinedly pushed her thoughts aside. Lying there, she squeezed her eyes closed, willing sleep to drag her off again so she could forget again, if only for a while.

A few seconds later, her eyes flew open again as she felt the bed dip beneath her.

"Hey," Puck was leaning over her, his hazel eyes sparkling with amusement, "that's my side, remember? I'm gone two fucking minutes and you're already jumping in the warm spot. Not cool, Rach."

"Noah," she breathed, staring up at him.

His smile dropped as he took in the expression on her face, "What's wrong?" he demanded, dropping onto his elbow and pressing his face close to hers. He held her gaze, waiting for an answer as she shook her head and reached for him.

All of her good intentions from just moments ago flew out the window; she had to touch him, any part of him. Reminding herself that they were in this together was the only thing that prevented her from breaking down when it all got to be too much, and until her things were out of the penthouse and papers were filed with the Berry and Weitzmann lawyers, that feeling of suffocation would remain.

She curled her palm around his forearm, "I thought you'd left while I was sleeping." Rachel hated the pitiful whimper that accompanied her reply and she made an impatient sound of disgust as she heard the tremor in her tone. She felt the moisture gather in the corner of her eyes and she swiped at them, embarrassed.

He pushed her hands away and wiped the tear from her face himself as it slipped down her cheek, "I'm still here," he pointed out huskily, "What is it, Rach?"

She shook her head, smiling weakly. "It's nothing. Please, just ignore me. Pregnant women are a basket case of emotions. Don't indulge my mood swings now when you have at least another 6 months worth to tolerate." She tried to brush it off as nothing, but Puck was having none of it.

"Babe, you're pregnant with my kid," he reminded her, "I'm not going to ignore you when it's the Puckerman spawn making you turn on the waterworks. If you need to cry, cry. If you wanna throw things, just try not to aim for my head, k?"

She giggled and sniffed at the same time, "Ok," she agreed softly.

He saw the anxiousness in her gaze and he sighed, he'd never been good at this 'talking about your feelings' shit, and it seemed like that's all they'd been doing. He thought he'd been handled it ok so far, but he knew it was only a matter of time before he put his foot in his mouth and said something stupid.

"I thought I talked you out of your freak out last night," he remarked as he settled beside her, drawing her close.

"You did, but then I had space to think and it all came rushing back."

His chest rumbled under her cheek as he laughed, "That's why you've gotta stop thinking, Berry. Shit's not good for you."

She didn't say anything, she just traced random patterns on his bicep with the tips of her fingers.

"Rachel," he nudged her gently, "I have to go soon, so tell me what I can say or what I can do to fix whatever's bothering you."

She tilted her head, leaning back so she met his gaze. Puck squirmed when she did nothing but stare at him for a full minute, "What?"

His discomfort was endearing.

"You grew up," she stated simply, still considering him.

He quirked his eyebrow, "Uh, yeah. You did too. Are you on drugs, babe? Coz I'm no expert, but I'm pretty sure that's a no-no when you've got a bun in the oven."

"I'm not on drugs," she assured him needlessly, "I'm just merely acknowledging the fact that you've changed."

He looked confused, "That's a good thing, right? I was kind of a dick back in high school."

She nodded slightly, her smile widening. "Yes," she agreed, "sometimes. But you always had a great capacity for kindness, Noah. You were always one of the few people I knew I could count on if something was really wrong."

"You did?" he asked sceptically. "Rach, I threw slushies in your face. I was horrible to you. Why would you have-"

"Not always," she interrupted, frowning fiercely at him for daring to contradict her on a topic she was quite passionate about. She had always been one of his biggest champions, quick to defend his character even when most of the time his actions didn't warrant her support.

"You put your popularity aside on several occasions for Glee, you chose me over football when we'd only been dating for a few days." Rachel pointed out. "When Finn and I broke up for the last time – you remember, don't you? We had that embarrassing public argument at the Winter Formal," she waited until he nodded, reluctantly, before continuing.

"I ran to the auditorium and you were the only one to come after me, to see if I was alright." She was stroking her fingers up and down his arm and he watched her tiny hand move over his skin, feeling the heat spread from her fingertips throughout his entire body.

"Well, the punch had been spiked and I wasn't sure if you'd had any," he explained awkwardly. "I had to make sure that freaky Jewfro kid didn't have the opportunity to corner you in case you were drunk and couldn't hold him off."

She made a little cooing sound at his protectiveness and Puck felt he had to defend his younger self from being portrayed as anything less than a BAMF. "For all I knew," he smirked, "you could be a slutty drunk, and if anyone was going to take advantage of that, it was going to be me."

Rachel slapped him lightly, but the warmth in her eyes told him that she saw right through him. "You wouldn't have taken advantage of me, you _didn't_. I cried all over your dress shirt, remember? And when I tried to kiss you, you told me that I was making a mistake – that Finn and I would be back together the next day and I'd regret anything that happened between us."

He was surprised she could remember the conversation so clearly, given how upset she'd been at the time.

"You wrapped me in your jacket and drove me home," her voice had softened. "And when you walked me to the door you kissed my forehead and told me Finn was an idiot and that I deserved better."

He didn't know what to say as her little trip down memory lane came to an end.

Finally, he settled on: "Shit Rach, could you make me sound anymore of a pussy?"

She rolled her eyes and sat up, drawing the covers up with her and tucking them around her body. "My point is, Noah." She stated, completely serious, "Is that you had these moments where you were just….wonderful. I'm glad you allowed yourself to – well, soften."

"Soften?"

He scowled; Noah Puckerman was _not_ soft.

She waved her hand in dismissal at his exclamation of disbelief. "I've thought about you over the years, you know. I worried that you wouldn't reach the potential I knew you had beneath that horrible 'Puck" persona. I just meant that you're a good man, Noah."

She bent her head to kiss him softly, "Every time you tell me that you're going to take care of me and the baby, or say something along the lines of what you just did – that you're willing to fix whatever's wrong in my world, it just validates the faith I've always had in you."

"Only you, Berry." He shook his head ruefully as he pushed off the mattress and knelt in front of her so he could kiss her properly, "Only you," he repeated against her lips, "were crazy enough to believe in me."

She covered the hand that was cupping her cheek and squeezed his fingers, "Well you need to cut people some slack; not everyone is as naturally perceptive and intelligent as I am." She poked her tongue out of the corner of her mouth in jest and he scoffed, then smirked as he tickled her in retaliation.

"Stop, Noah!" she squealed, lashing out almost violently to evade the torment of his hands. She was so sensitive to the slightest touch on her ribcage, one brush of his knuckles and she dissolved into fits of laughter.

She managed to toss off the covers and tried to leap up from the bed but he grabbed her around the waist before she could make a run for the door. "Noah!" she was giggling breathlessly as he tackled her back onto the mattress, cushioning the fall with his body as he spun her so she tumbled on top of him.

He was laughing as well when she used her hands to brace herself over him and caught his chuckles with her lips. Her heart felt like it was going to burst, she was so overcome with emotion.

"It's not always going to be so easy," she said suddenly when she pulled back.

"What's not?" he asked cluelessly, sliding his hands under her t-shirt to caress her back.

"This, us." She offered, chewing on her bottom lip, her eyes wide and searching as they studied his face.

"Last night and this morning….it's almost surreal. I told you that I'm keeping the baby and suddenly we're acting like, well-" she shrugged, "a real couple expecting a baby. It's like we're in a bubble, where it's just the two of us. What's going to happen when the rest of the world intrudes?" She was genuinely afraid of the prospect.

Puck groaned, "Again with the thinking, Rach. Quit it." He ordered. "We're going to be fine. And we are a couple expecting a baby," he reasoned.

"Yes, but not a couple, couple." She pressed, resting her hands on his chest. "For all intents and purposes, Noah, I'm still married."

"Not for much longer."

She sighed, "Perhaps, but we're not_together_ Noah. And here we are, kissing and acting like we don't have a care in the world…."

He stared up at her in resignation, "Rachel, things are about to go to shit for a while. I know that as soon as you tell the Douche, things are going to change. I don't know how you feel about me, or how you're going to feel when this is all out in the open, but I'm not going to be sorry for being here, like this, with you."

"I don't want you to be sorry, I'm just-"

"Worrying over nothing," he finished for her. "Forget about us, we're fine and if not, we'll figure it out later. Just do whatever you gotta do to get the fuck out of here," he gestured around the room, "so we can concentrate on the kid, ok?"

She opened her mouth like she wanted to say something else, before closing it and nodding, "Alright."

Rachel glanced at the alarm clock and saw that it was close to 9AM. Her pensive expression turned frantic. "Noah! It's almost nine. Rosa will be here at any moment, you have to go!"

She practically threw his clothes at him, watching anxiously as he dressed.

"Relax," he placated a minute later as they exited the bedroom and headed towards the foyer.

"I will not relax," she countered, her eyes sweeping side to side to look for any evidence of his presence in the apartment. Thankfully, there was none.

As she pushed him towards the door Puck grabbed her hips and stopped, "Babe, I said _relax."_

He backed her against the wall to thoroughly kiss her goodbye, not letting up his assault on her lips until she was pliant in his arms, the tension drained from her body. She giggled when he released her and then immediately made a move to kiss her again. "Noah, enough! You need to go," she tried to keep her tone stern but her smile gave her away.

"Fuck, fine," he grumbled, running his fingers down her arm and flashing a smirk at her as he flipped the deadbolt. She pushed him out into the hall, leaning against the door jam as she watched him jab the button for the elevator.

"Call me later?" he requested just as the doors opened for him. Rachel nodded and wriggled her fingers at him before shutting the door and leaning against it. She let out a laugh and headed back to the bedroom, raking her fingers through her bed hair and marvelling over the fact that she hadn't felt nauseous at all that morning.

Just before she reached the guest room, she stopped at the large floor length mirror midway up the passage. On impulse, she lifted her shirt and turned to the side to view her profile; it was too early for her to be showing, but she stroked her abdomen lightly anyway, her expression relaxed and happier than it had been in some time.

She was so focused on her reflexion that she failed to notice the shadow of the person peeking out from behind a door further up the hall, or hear the soft gasp they let out as they took in the scene before them. Rachel let go of her t-shirt, humming as she headed to the bathroom to shower, not knowing that the bubble she had indeed been living in with Noah since the night before was about to well and truly burst.

Stepping beneath the hot spray, her humming gave way to singing, the sound of the water and her voice effectively blocking out the scurrying steps of her housekeeper who had witness her goodbye to Noah with malevolent pleasure. Rosa hurriedly typed a number into the phone handset in the kitchen, her beady eyes fixed on the hallway as she waited for the person at the other end to pick up.

"Signor Weitzmann? This is Rosa. Sir, you have a problem."


	8. Boo boos

_**WARNING: This chapter contains elements of domestic violence and mentions of verbal/emotional abuse. It's not my intention to anger anybody so please accept responsibility for your own actions and don't read if you think it will upset you!**_

***/***

Rachel was humming as she folded her laundry, placing her clothes neatly into piles on the bed. She had spent the morning avoiding Rosa and, after sending the housekeeper home early, the later part of the day packing her belongings. She was sorting the things that would be of no use to her in the short term; cocktail dresses and the a huge majority of her shoe collection (what good were four inch stiletto heels to a pregnant woman?) were set aside for storage, while her fall and winter wardrobes, toiletries and jewellery were packed ready to move to Kurt's, where she would be staying temporarily.

She'd already decided she would not be taking anything out of the apartment except for the bare essentials - practically the entire penthouse was furnished to Michael's taste and she had no interest in claiming anything other than the crystal her fathers had given them as a wedding present and a few pieces of art work she'd purchased for herself over the years. Besides, she had her own apartment that she had been subletting, furnished, for years, and with a bit of luck she would be moving there within a few weeks.

She turned towards the closet, her gaze catching the reflection of a motionless figure in the bureau mirror.

Rachel spun around, stifling a scream of fright. "M-Michael." she pressed her hand to her racing heart and took a deep breath. "You startled me. What are you doing home?" she forced herself to sound calm and unaffected, even as she felt the sweat breaking out on her forehead. "I wasn't expecting you back until Friday."

He scoffed, looking around at the four open suitcases scattered around the room. "Obviously."

His gaze locked on hers and she gulped. His eyes were cold and distant and Rachel unconsciously took a step back, her hand coming to rest protectively on her flat stomach. The movement did not go unnoticed by her husband whose eyes narrowed as he stepped into the room, advancing on her slowly. "I've had a bitch of a week," he stated gruffly. "The weather in LA was dismal, no one wants to invest in the new show and the talent I've been auditioning has been nothing short of pathetic." He loosened his tie and flicked open the top two buttons on his shirt. "Nothing has been going my way, Sweetheart. Nothing."

Rachel choked out a small sound of sympathy, her arms crossing defensively over her chest.

"So then," he continued, "this morning, just as I've finished my breakfast, my phone rings and I look down and see it's a call from home." He paused, fixing her with his icy stare, "And I thought to myself, oh, it's my darling wife phoning to check in and wish me good luck in my morning meetings." He paused again, chuckling darkly.

"But it wasn't you, was it Snookums?" his voice dropped dangerously as he stopped in front of her. They stood in silence for two unbearably tense minutes, until he reached out to brush a strand of hair from her face. Rachel instinctively shrank back from his touch, a move that infuriated her husband. "Michael-"

"SHUT UP!" He shouted thunderously, his rage suddenly palpable.

Rachel jumped, hurriedly taking another step back but coming up hard against the chest of drawers. She swallowed nervously and reached into the pocket of her sweatshirt, her fingers curling around her cell phone. She was thoroughly unprepared for this confrontation and didn't know how to act - what to do or what to say so she just waited with bated breath for his next move, watching him warily.

His gaze travelled around the room once more and when his eyes came back to rest on her, his face was a mask of composure.

"Are you going somewhere darling?" If Rachel didn't already know she was in trouble, the four pet names in under five minutes would have been a good indicator. Very rarely were they affectionate with each other and his tone just wreaked of sarcasm.

She struggled formulate an explanation, "I-"

"Do you know," he interrupted mildly, "Rosa said the strangest thing to me today; she said that there was a man here this morning. She was under the impression that he'd stayed the night."

He left the words hanging. Rachel opened her mouth to respond, her mind scrambling trying to find a way out of the conversation so she could remove herself out of the apartment - and out of the direct line of fire - but no words came out. Again, with her hand in her pocket she pressed against her stomach, suddenly fearful for her safety and the baby's. Michael was positively shaking with anger and although she'd never considered him to be physically intimidating (at least not until the point where he had manhandled her into the bathroom on the morning of her last _Chicago_ performance). In his present state of mind, she had never been more afraid of the man that stood before her.

"I told her she was mistaken." He waited for her to respond. When it was clear she wasn't going to, his jaw clenched. "She was mistaken, wasn't she Princess?" The sharpness in his tone told her that he was on the verge of losing it.

"Y-yes," she stuttered, edging towards the door. "Michael I-"

His fingers closed around her wrist, tightening painfully. "You're not that stupid, are you? You wouldn't _dare_ bring one of your indiscretions here, not to my home."

She looked at him helplessly and his eyes narrowed to tiny slits. His fingers dug into her tender skin and she cried out as he twisted his hand, pain shooting up her arm.

"Michael, please-" Tears sprang to her eyes.

"Who is he?" He demanded forcefully, shaking her roughly. "Who is it that you've been spreading your legs for, you little whore?"

"Stop it!" She tried to break free and he pushed forward, slamming her against the wall.

"You will tell me or I swear to god Rachel, I will make sure you never work in this town again."

Rachel wrenched her arm out of his vice-like grip, her chest heaving. "You'll do that anyway, because...because..." It took her a moment to get her breathing under control. "I'm leaving you." She whispered, thankful that while she was so nervous her knees were knocking together, there was no detectable tremor in her quiet tone.

"You're...you're WHAT?" he gaped at her, shock registering over his face.

"I'm leaving you," she repeated, this time with more conviction. "I have been having an affair and I've just found out I'm pregnant. It was a choice between motherhood and my career and I'm choosing to keep the baby." She mustered up every ounce of resolve she possessed as she looked him dead in the eye. "I want a divorce."

She held her breath as she waited for him to process the bombshell she'd just dropped. His eyes dropped to the carpet and her shoulders slumped with something like relief when her news wasn't met with an immediate outburst.

Her reprieve was short lived. Her gaze left his face for a split second and she missed the way his hand drew back. She only heard a deafening crack as his fist made contact and felt the blinding pain that exploded in the side of her face. Rachel slid to the floor, cowering away from him and clutching her cheek in horror as the reality of what he'd done registered.

There was a flicker of surprise in his eyes - as if he couldn't fully comprehend his own actions - but just a moment later it was gone. He sneered as he stood over her and after a full minute, he turned away in disgust. "Get out then," was all he said as he took his leave. "You have one hour before I change the locks."

She watched his departing form, curling her body into a tight ball as the tears started to fall from her eyes. She choked on a sob and pressed her fingers gingerly against the side of her face. There were pain, numbness and adrenalin, all fighting for dominance. But underneath it all, there was hope. She was finally free.

***/***

Brad sighed as the buzz of the intercom echoed around the apartment, jolting him from his concentration.

"Kurt, can you get that?"

There was no answer from his beloved who had been locked up in the spare bedroom that they'd converted into a studio of sorts for hours, sketching designs for his new venture – a collaboration with the H&M label for a line of affordable couture pieces.

"Kurt!"

Frustrated, Brad threw down his pen, just as the buzzer sounded again; longer this time, more insistent. "Ok, ok," he muttered as he jogged towards the entry foyer, jabbing the speaker with undue force. "Yeah," he barked, annoyed at the interruption. He had a 62 page dissertation to look over before the next morning and it was already 9pm and he wasn't even a quarter of the way through.

"Brad?" A shaky voice echoed down the line. "It's Rachel."

"Rachel? Why didn't the door man let you in? Get up here." He pressed the door release that would grant her entry into the building.

He unlatched the security chain and yelled for Kurt once more, opening the door and waiting anxiously for the elevator to signal the arrival of their guest. While 9pm wasn't too late for a social call, knowing Rachel as he did, the fact that she hadn't called to warn them of her visit was very telling. The sound of her usually formidable voice no more than a whisper over the intercom had the hair on the back of his neck standing at attention. When the doors opened, they deposited a dishevelled Rachel onto their floor, a large suitcase in one hand and an oversized Gucci carryall in the other. Taking in her small frame, dressed in faded jeans and a too large sweatshirt, Brad felt his stomach turn. He could tell just from her wardrobe choice that something was very wrong.

"Rach, has something happened?" he called in concern as she made her way down the long corridor.

He had been caught up in an important case at work and hadn't had the opportunity to catch up on the latest news in the ongoing Puckleberry saga (as Kurt had taken to calling it). The last thing he had heard was that Rachel was going to tell Puck about her decision to keep the baby and she had called Kurt just that morning to assure him that the mechanic was over the moon. They were glad that Rachel was finally breaking free from her horrid husband, but were all waiting impatiently for Michael to return from LA, anxious to close that turbulent chapter of Rachel's life.

When she finally made it to the door, she lifted her head, brushing back the hair that had previously been shielding her face from his view. He caught side of her split lip and the large, nasty looking bruise forming on her cheek and froze, just as she answered his question, her voice thick with emotion. "Yes, something happened. Michael came home early." she paused, tears welling up in her eyes as she continued, "H-he knows now, about the baby. I told him I wanted a divorce a-and he-"

She broke off and dropped the handle on her suitcase, falling into arms that immediately folded comfortingly around her.

"Really Brad, what's with all the yelling?" Kurt's voice got progressively louder as he walked down the hallway from his studio. "I thought you needed peace and quiet so you could-" He stopped, catching sight of his long time best friend sobbing into the arms of his partner, and the words just died in his throat. "Diva?"

She turned her face towards the sound of his voice and Kurt let out a startled gasp when he realized that the ugly red and purple mark marring her cheek and the swelling of her lip was not a figment of his overworked imagination. He rushed forward, tugging her out of Brad's arms and into his own as he started muttering under his breath about ways he would kill her philandering, abusive asshole of a husband; he watched _Dexter_, he was sure he could get away with it.

Brad collected her luggage from the hall and propelled them inside and towards the den. Kurt reached his hand towards the rapidly darkening bruise as they walked in morbid curiosity, but Rachel shied away from his touch.

"Don't," her voice was hoarse from hours of crying, "It's really quite painful."

"It looks it," he glanced at Brad who was already heading towards the kitchen for an ice pack and some camomile tea.

They settled in the den where Kurt tucked a blanket in around her body and fussed around, plumping a pillow to stuff behind her back, adjusting the lighting so the brightness wasn't bothering her and turning off the AC when he noticed her shivering.

Another sob bubbled up in her throat and she leaned into Kurt's side, burying her face in his shoulder as she took deep breaths to try and prevent herself from breaking down again. Kurt rubbed her shoulder gently, "He came back early, huh?" He ventured softly, his arm tightening around her when he felt her tense up. She could only nod.

"You told him about Puck?"

She shuddered, "He already knew." Her voice was barely above a whisper.

Brad, who had just returned with the tea and an ice pack exchanged a sombre glance with his partner. "Here Rach, sit up and drink this." When she straightened, he handed her a mug of lemon and honey tea. They sat in silence as they watched Rachel sip slowly from her cup, her eyes gazing unseeingly at a spot in the carpet.

"He was supposed to love me," her voice was almost inaudible, they had to strain to hear her. "He's my husband, it's his _job_," she blinked rapidly, her chest heaving as she drew in a deep breath. "When you marry someone, that's what you sign up for, isn't it?" her voice slowly regained some strength and she looked at Kurt as if he could give her all the answers.

"You stand up in front of your family and friends and you make promises to each other, that you'll love them and honor them and forsake all others." She recited the words, nodding to herself after each refrain to try and validate the sentiments in her mind. "He was supposed to support me, he was supposed to believe in me, he was supposed to love _me._" she repeated more insistently, a tinge of hysteria coloring her tone as she failed to make sense of it all.

Kurt leaned forward to calm her, resting his palm on her forearm as his eyes captured hers. "Diva, you need to tell us what happened."

His question was met with silence and she seemed to deflate, a shutter coming down over her face. She stared at him, her brown doe like eyes wide and vacant.

"You said Michael came home early," Kurt prompted carefully, her rapidly changing emotions fleeting from one extreme to the other, telling him he needed to tread lightly. "And that he already knew about Puck, how?"

"I-" she faltered, seemingly forgetting what he asked her the moment she opened her mouth. Her eyes fluttered shut for a moment before she opened them again and found that spot on the floor that she was showing an inordinate amount of interest in.

"Rachel," Kurt's voice rose an octave as he tried to capture and retain her attention. It worked and her head jerked up. "How did Michael know about Puck?" he repeated slowly.

"Rosa," Rachel answered hollowly after a beat. "Rosa told him."

"Ahuh," Kurt nodded, brushing the bangs out of her eyes. "And how did Rosa find out?"

She licked her lips and tasted salt, "Noah stayed with me last night," she answered, realization dawning on her face. She hadn't taken the time to think about it before, she had just assumed there had been some trace of him in the apartment, a forgotten sweatshirt or something, but she knew there hadn't been. "She must have seen him leave this morning." A tear slid down her face.

"Puck slept over last night, after you told him about the baby?" Brad clarified.

Rachel turned lethargically towards the direction of his voice, to where he was standing a few feet away, his hands in his pockets. "He was so happy," she murmured faintly, "so excited."

Kurt continued to gaze at her in concern as Brad moved forward to seat himself on the other side of their friend, this new position giving him the perfect vantage point to inspect her face. He clenched his hand into a fist as his eyes travelled over the damage Michael had inflicted. He waited until she had finished most of her tea before reaching for the ice pack and indicating that he was going to press it against the swelling. Rachel whimpered as the pack made contact with her face and Kurt made a strangled sound in the back of his throat. A red flush was blooming across his porcelain features and Brad could tell he was struggling to contain a scathing rant over her sorry excuse of a husband. When their eyes met, Brad shook his head slightly in warning; they both knew that voicing their distain (once again) for the man she had married, would do nothing to help her.

"I know its difficult Rachel, but we need you to talk us through what Michael did when he came home. Tell us what you said and how he reacted." Brad directed, slipping seamlessly into lawyer mode. "Can you do that for us?" He kept his tone measured and calm, his palm warm on her neck as he held the frigid pack to her cheek.

"I-I think so," she stammered and they nodded encouragingly.

"You can do this Diva," Kurt said with a quite confidence. "Michael came home…"

She picked up right where he left off. "Michael came home," she repeated faintly, "and I knew straight away something was wrong; the way he looked at me…." her hands were shaking and Kurt leaned forward to take the cup away from her before she could drop it. He placed the cup on the coffee table and took both of her hands in his as she continued, the lower lip that had almost tripled in size, trembling.

"How did he look at you?" Brad could see that she would need to be led through the conversation and luckily for them, his job demanded that he be somewhat of an expert in leading questions.

"With contempt," she answered meekly, her fingers fluttering nervously over Brad's, like she wanted to touch her cheek, as if she still couldn't quite accept the fact that the bruising was there. "Hatred." She added quietly, drawing in a deep breath. "He called me a whore."

Kurt's face darkened and his grip tightened on her hands. That was rich, coming from Michael who had done nothing but screw around on her for the better part of three years. Rachel relayed haltingly - with plenty of prompting from Brad - about the way he had baited her and how he had told her in no uncertain terms that unless she divulged the name of the man she was having an affair with, he would make sure her career was over. Brad was rubbing between her shoulder blades as she recounted exactly the way she had broken the news of her pregnancy and about wanting a divorce, losing her place in the conversation several times only to stop completely when she got to the point where Michael had hit her and her sobs rendered her unable to finish her story.

Kurt sat motionless, his eyes glazed with tears as Brad pulled Rachel into his lap, the ice pack falling forgotten onto the floor. "Don't you worry Rachel, we'll make him pay for this. He won't get away with hurting you." He promised in a voice so gruff Kurt finally shook out of his stupor and blinked in surprise; it was a tone he'd never heard him use before. "I know a guy on the force that deals with a lot of domestic violence cases, he'll ensure Michael is charged for this, I promise you."

"No." Rachel was shaking her head, her fingers pulling at Brad's dress shirt. She looked so small and fragile cradled in his lap as she was, the tears in her eyes and the bruising on her face making Kurt's heart hurt.

"What do you mean, no? Diva, you have to press charges." Kurt said seriously.

She shook her head again, distress written all over her face. "No," she said again, "no, no, no," Her knees came up and she curled herself into a ball, her tears flowing freely.

"Rachel," Brad murmured, stroking her hair to calm her down.

"No, I can't-" she tucked her head into Brad's chest. "Oh god, this is-" her sobs became louder and Kurt dropped to his knees in front of them, his expression tortured as the force of them shook her slight frame. Her hand curled into a fist and pressed against her diaphragm as she gasped, feeling as though she was going to suffocate from the dead weight of her troubles.

"She's going to have a panic attack," Kurt recognized the signs and anxiously coached her to breathe in and out slowly until her eyes regained their focus and the pressure in her chest eased.

"Rachel," Brad pressed his lips to her temple, caressing her back lightly as she calmed. "You can't do nothing and let him think that it was ok to do this to you. He needs to be charged, and for the sake of your sanity, you need the affirmation that what he did to you was wrong."

"I can't," she said again, her breathing laboured. "I don't want to think about it, I don't want to have to relive it - for the police, the lawyers and the judges. I just want to be free of him."

She knew she wouldn't get very far with Brad, she could tell from the determined glint in his eye; his outlook on the world was very much black and white, unusual considering his chosen career. She turned pleading eyes on her best friend instead, knowing he was very rarely able to deny her anything. "Please Kurt," she begged brokenly, "My marriage is over, I need to put it behind me and move on." She touched her hand against her abdomen and closed her eyes as her breath hitched again and she struggled to regulate her breathing.

When she opened them she brushed away the tears still streaming from her eyes. "Please," she begged them again. "I just want to forget about him. Don't make me go through that."

Kurt looked helplessly at Brad who was staring back at him, indecisive and troubled.

"Should I call Puck?" Kurt wondered. "It's not that late, I'm sure he'll come-"

Rachel's head shot up in alarm, "Don't call him!"

"Sweetie, he'll want to know."

She shook her head vehemently and they both rushed to calm her, not wanting her to work herself up again. "It's not his concern. I don't want him to know."

"Rachel, you don't honestly think you can keep this from him, do you? Puck _will_ find out eventually," Brad told her reasonably. "I don't know the man, obviously, but from that little interaction I've had with him, I can tell he cares about you. From what you've told us, we know that he's going to want to be around you for the pregnancy and I can see him showing up at any time now, knowing that that you've left your husband. What are you going to do? Just avoid his calls until the bruises have faded?"

"Maybe," she sniffled, lifting her shoulder and shrugged helplessly. "I know it's not a perfect plan-"

"Forget perfect," Kurt couldn't help but snort, "Diva, it's not even feasible. Brad's right; the second Puck finds out you've moved out of the penthouse he's going to glue himself to your side until that baby pops out."

Rachel was silent for a moment, staring at her hands. "He doesn't have to know I've told Michael. We can hold him off for a few days, until I've had time to heal." She looked at both of them in turn, beseeching them to accept to her request. "You don't understand, he's so protective over everyone he cares about. I'm carrying his child; I don't want to think about what he would do if he sees this." She gestured at her cheek and said no more. They could all guess what Puck's reaction would be if he saw her battered and bruised as she was, after all, the exact same way that Kurt and Brad were feeling – that Michael needed to pay, preferably with his own blood.

"I can't-" she stopped, shaking her head, "I can't deal with Noah on top of everything else." She finished softly.

Kurt was torn with indecision. His primary concern of course, after the events that evening, was Rachel's mental state and he didn't want to put any more pressure on her. She was hanging by a thread as it was and she was right; Puck would be homicidal if he saw the state she was in and she shouldn't have to worry about his reaction when her priority at the moment was working through the dissolution of a marriage that she hadn't been happy in for a long time.

But there was a strong part of Kurt that wished he could place that call anyway, if only so he could secure a front row seat and watch as Puck delivered some retribution to the man who dared raise a hand to her. It sickened Kurt to know that her proficiency as an actress had fooled him – the person who professed to know her the best – into thinking that her marriage wasn't as terrible as he had suspected it to be.

Rachel had silently endured the heartache of her husband's unfaithfulness for years and suffered the undertones of verbal abuse (that Kurt was only beginning to understand the extent of) as he attacked her talent, her looks and her character; she had put on a brave face throughout all of it and maintained the belief they were just going through a rough patch and could regain the love and affection they had had for each other in the beginning. She'd held onto that belief, even in the wake of her affair with Noah and the feelings he stirred in her that she'd long since buried, only to have it fall apart anyway. Rachel had always been a perfectionist and Kurt knew she would take her divorce as a personal failure.

Meanwhile, Kurt felt responsible; he had suspected Rachel and Michael's fights may have escalated into some type of physical altercation weeks ago, especially since Rachel had been so visibly shaken the morning that she had claimed she was too ill to take the stage on the_Chicago_ finale weekend. At the theatre that day she had seemed to shrink back from the weight of Michael's gaze and her brown eyes had conveyed her fear of the man. Kurt had filed her reaction away, intending to question her about it later but for some reason, had never pressed her to tell him what exactly had transpired between them. It was a regret that he would carry with him for years to come. Hell, he should have tried harder to get her to steer clear of the man back in the very beginning!

He had never been a violent person, but for Michael Weitzmann, Kurt would eagerly make an exception.

"I don't want Noah to know." Rachel said again quietly.

In the end, Kurt could only sigh and nod reluctantly; it wasn't his decision to make and regardless of whether or not he thought she was making a monumental mistake, he had to respect her wishes.

Her watery smile was the first and the last he would see for a while.

***/***

The following evening, Puck and Finn were lounging in the den with a beer apiece, having just come from the rec center where they'd played a game of two on two basketball with a couple of dudes that they knew from the gym, when a frazzled looking Quinn came through the door with Charlotte and several plastic grocery bags full of food. Both men jumped to their feet to help her and she was about to smile her thanks when she noticed Puck.

"What are you doing here?" She asked in a tone that was bordering on panic.

He arched his eyebrow as he took the bags from her hands, "It's Thursday Q, I always mooch dinner off you on the nights Hudson and I play some b-ball."

"Right," she nodded once, clearly flustered and Finn frowned, touching her arm. Puck also regarded her carefully. Her eyes shifted nervously away from him and he got the distinct impression that she was hiding something.

"Is everything ok, hon?" The blonde's eyes slid to her husband, then back to Puck before she nodded again. She brushed her hair back from her face as Charlotte bounced up and down in front of her father, begging for his attention. "I'm fine, Finn. Can you get Charlotte washed up and then come and give me a hand in starting dinner? Puck, if you're staying, why don't you take a shower? You stink."

He laughed and agreed, dumping the groceries into the kitchen before retrieving his backpack from where he's dumped it near the front door and heading upstairs towards the bathroom. When he came back downstairs 20 minutes later dressed in jeans and a dark green plaid shirt over a plain white tee, Finn and Quinn were standing close together in the pantry, talking in hushed tones. They stopped abruptly when he sauntered in and helped himself to the contents of their refrigerator in a gesture of familiarity illustrating how comfortable he was in their home.

He poured himself a glass of juice and leaned back against the bench as they stared at him. "Hey, don't shut up on my account. What's up? Q, you look like someone ran over your puppy." It was an accurate assessment, her brow had been furrowed and her lips compressed into a tight line as she looked up at her husband, as if she was going to burst into tears at any moment. At Puck's words though, she schooled her features into a look of nonchalance.

"Nothing, everything's fine. Will you set the table please? It's just the three of us plus Charlotte. The boys are working on a group science project and won't be home until after dinner."

"Sure," he pushed off from the counter and walked over to the cutlery drawer, still studying Quinn curiously. Something was off with her and he had a feeling that whatever it was she was trying to hide, it was related to him. Puck paused, a fist full of silverware in his hand. "Have you heard from Rachel today?" he asked suddenly, knowing how chummy the two women had become. He had been unable to reach her since the previous afternoon and had finally left a voicemail on her cell phone telling her to call him back, no matter what the time – he wanted to see her before her husband was due back from LA. She had said she didn't need him there when she delivered the news of her pregnancy and the fact that she wanted a divorce, but Puck didn't think she should be alone when she confronted the Douche. He hoped to talk her into having Kurt or Brad with her at least.

Quinn was busying herself stirring the sauce for the chicken. "I've had a busy day today." She answered, deflecting the question. Puck noticed.

He pressed the issue. "It's just that she said she would call me and she hasn't. I'm just worried, that's all."

Finn walked around the island bench and began to unload the dishwasher. "Rachel's always had a hectic schedule; I'm sure she's just in the middle of something and forgot. She'll call when she has some time."

Rachel wasn't the forgetful type and they all knew it. Puck looked between his two closest friends suspiciously. "You know something." He accused, his free hand pointing a finger at each of them in turn. "Spill."

Quinn put down the wooden spoon she'd been holding and turned. "Puck, when I spoke with Rachel yesterday she was packing and moving some of her things to Kurt's. She had a lot to accomplish before Michael's return, so don't jump all over the fact she hasn't made one phone call. She's decided to keep the baby, she's finally agreed to leave her husband – there's no need for you to shadow her every move. Rachel just might need some space at the moment to adjust to the new reality of her life."

Puck nodded slowly. That made sense but still, he didn't like it. Rachel had said she'd call and she hadn't, it didn't sit right with him. He would call her again after dinner and failing that, he might take a drive into Manhattan. Decision made, he set the table sloppily and had a quick tea party with Charlotte and her teddy bears in the living room until they were called to the table to eat.

Dinner was a quiet affair, an occurrence that just wasn't natural in the Hudson household. Finn and Quinn seemed to be having a mostly silent conversation with their eyes and Charlotte was sullen, after being told that under no circumstances would she be allowed dessert unless she had eaten all of her vegetables. Finally, when he couldn't take the quiet any longer, Puck turned to his attention to his favorite honorary niece, determined to get some sort of conversation happening - even if it was with a four year old.

"So Princess, what did you do today? You went to preschool this morning huh? Learn anything fun?"

Charlotte nodded vigorously and launched into a detailed play by play of her day with Puck making appropriately interested noises as she talked. It wasn't until she reached the end of her long winded spiel that Puck learned the reason for Quinn's evident discomfort in his presence. "And then Mommy picked me up and we went to see Aunt Rachel – she has a boo boo just like me Uncle Puck!" The little girl pointed to the bruise that was fading on her elbow and Puck reached for his water glass, thinking nothing of her comment.

"Aww, Rachel has a boo-boo too, Char? Did Aunt Rachel get her boo boo at ballet class, just like you did?" He smirked as he lifted the glass to his lips.

Charlotte shook her head. "Na–uh, I dunno how Rachel got her boo-boo but its big! It's as big as her whole face!" She gestured animatedly at her cheek and Puck froze.

His eyes flew to Quinn who had paled and was staring back at him guiltily. He put his glass back down with an inordinate amount of care. "Rachel has a big boo-boo on her face?" He clarified calmly, his eyes holding her bright green ones. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Charlotte nodding again while Quinn remained perfectly still.

"Quinn?"

She gulped, "Puck-"

"Quinn," he repeated her name again but this time, he practically growled it and she could see the fury building in his darkening gaze. "You lied to me. You said you hadn't seen her today. What's going on?" He questioned tightly as Finn frowning in concern, laying his hand over Quinn's and squeezing her fingers supportively.

She took a deep breath, "I didn't lie. I told you I'd spoken with Rachel yesterday, which I had, and that I'd had a busy day – also true."

He glared at her, "Don't play games with me here. I want the truth and I want it now."

She inclined her head and sighed. "Rosa saw you leave on Wednesday morning." Quinn explained quietly, fiddling with her napkin. "She called Michael and he came back early. He confronted her, and when she told him she was pregnant and she wanted a divorce, he-" She stopped, the murderous look on Puck's face rendering her unable to confirm what he had suspected.

His face had hardened as he sat there, soaking in what he'd just learned. After a moment, the nerve in his cheek jumped, a clear indicator that he was struggling to maintain a cool façade and was about to truly lose his shit.

Quinn glanced at her daughter from the corner of her eye, to see if she had caught onto the tension that had suddenly descended over the room. Thankfully she hadn't, and was pushing the carrots around on her plate, completely oblivious. Puck also glanced at Charlotte and then pointedly back at his best friend. Finn got the message and leapt to action, scooping his daughter up into his arms and out of the room, ignoring her surprised wails of protest. When they were out of earshot, Puck pushed back from the table so hard the dishes rattled. Quinn shot to her feet and grabbed his arm as he went to stalk past her.

He stopped as her fingers closed over his forearm but couldn't look at her as he demanded tightly, "Where is she now?"

Quinn bit her lip, "She's at Kurt's. He had to go into the office for a few hours this afternoon and didn't want her to be alone. He called me to sit with her, that's how I knew."

He nodded and when he went to move away she stepped in front of him and blocked his exit. "Puck, just wait a second ok?" She waited until he met her gaze before she continued, her eyes imploring him to listen. "Don't go over there like this. You're mad, I get it. I want to kill him for what he did to her too. But Rachel's a bit of a mess right now and it won't do any good to show up ranting like a lunatic, especially if you're going to end up taking it out on her. Calm down, please."

He blew out a breath, glaring at his long term friend. "The fuck? I'm not going to take anything out on her."

Quinn sighed, the grip she had on his arm relaxing. "You're angry, and since you can't immediately take your frustrations out on Michael as you would like, you'll probably just say something stupid and upset her."

He gave her a look, "Gee, thanks."

She smiled slightly, "Sorry. I just meant, she's still in shock. She's upset, she's embarrassed – she's even a little ashamed. She asked me specifically not to say anything to you."

"Why the fuck not?" He barked, shrugging her off completely and crossing his arms over his broad chest. He ignored the way her eyes narrowed and the way she pursed her lips, no doubt gearing up to lecture him about cursing under her roof (it was a speech she'd given him on more than one occasion).

"Well I suppose she might have been worried about your reaction. You're not exactly the poster boy for impulse control and she probably didn't want you flying off the handle without reason."

He muttered something under his breath that sounded like 'fucking bullshit' and 'crazy' and then he was heading for the door again. "I'd say a fucking bruise 'as big as her whole head' is a fucking good reason, Quinn." he spat on his way out. He paused when he got to the door and looked back at her. "Don't call her," he warned. "I'm going over there and I don't want her to cut and run before I show up." When she opened her mouth like she was going to argue he waved his hand at her. "Don't worry, I'm not going to say anything stupid or 'take it out on her'." He made quotation marks with his fingers.

"Puck," Quinn levelled a look at him, "Be gentle. I meant what I said. She's vulnerable, don't push her."

He seemed to deflate as he leaned his forehead against the doorframe and closed his eyes. Quinn watched him for a moment, taking in his posture and the way his jaw was clenched so tightly. He knew she was right, he needed to calm down. He was wound so tightly that there was a good chance he'd verbally lash out just to expel some of his pent up frustration and if she was really as fragile as Quinn said, he absolutely did not want to do that in front of Rachel.

"I just need to see it for myself. I want to see that she's ok now." Puck said lowly. He opened his eyes and took a deep breath to collect himself. "Please don't call her Q," he requested. "I'll see you later."

Quinn felt Finn's hands come to rest on her shoulders as she watched their friend depart and she leaned back against his chest, "Do I ignore that and call ahead? Should we warn her?" She wondered anxiously.

Finn hugged her closer to his body, his chin resting on the top of her head. "No. Puck and Rachel have signed up for a lot, deciding to raise this baby together. They have a heap of shit to deal with and we gotta stand back and let them do it. They know where we are if they want us to interfere."

Quinn nodded in acceptance of his statement. "Do you think Puck will go after her husband?"

"Yeah," Finn replied simply. "If it was us in their place, and you got hurt, I would."

Quinn bit her lip, staring at the closed door, "That's what I was afraid you'd say. He could make things worse."

"Or better." Finn contradicted optimistically. "Rachel's husband sounds like a grade A fuckwit, and if anyone can make sure he never comes into contact with her again, it's Puck."

Quinn nodded, not bothering to reprimand him for his language. In the scheme of things, if a colorful vocabulary – influenced by a lifetime of friendship with the man that had just left - was her husband's worst flaw, she'd take it. She turned within the circle of his arms and buried her face in his chest, sighing in contentment when his grip tightened and she felt his fingers rub soothingly along her back.

"I love you," she said quietly into his t-shirt. "I'm so lucky to have married such a kind, decent man." She couldn't help but dwell on the bruise Rachel was currently sporting and the defeat in her eyes. Quinn couldn't imagine how it would feel to have someone intentionally try and break you emotionally, when she'd been blessed to have been loved by this man since high school.

"I love you, too." Finn replied quietly, tightening his arms around her. He always had.

***/***


	9. I'm Gonna Kiss it Better

_**A/N: Thanks to everyone who stuck with me despite the extra long gap between updates. Readers = love.**_

Puck vaulted up the front steps of Kurt's apartment building and made it to the front entry just as a resident was on her way out. He caught the door before it shut closed and let himself inside the spacious foyer. He jogged passed the unattended security desk towards the elevator and pressed the number for Kurt's floor impatiently, his leg twitching as the doors closed behind him and made a slow ascent up to the 11th floor.

The elevator ride was long and torturous, and by the time he reached his destination Puck felt as though the last 2 minutes of his life had stretched out into an eternity. The doors had barely opened before he was slipping through them and jogging again towards apartment 11B where he immediately knocked sharply on the wood, and then barely five seconds later, rapped louder again.

Less than a minute had passed before Puck was gritting his teeth and taking a step back, not content to wait even a second longer. He eyed the door, judging it to be about three inches thick, and was sure he could kick it down on the first try. He took a deep breath as he squared his shoulders and was just about to count down from three when the door swung open, revealing an irritated Kurt.

His frown gave way to a look of surprise and then caution as he glanced at Puck's face. He opened his mouth - to say what he wasn't sure - when Puck strode straight past him and into the apartment without a word, disappearing around the corner and down the hall to where an internal radar was telling him he could find Rachel. Kurt closed the door and hurried after him, stopping short as he saw Puck pause in the doorway of the den. His eyes were trained on Rachel who was sitting on the chaise lounge watching the Sound of Music, silently mouthing the words and blissfully ignorant of their presence. The lights were turned down low but the flickering of the television illuminated her face and from this angle, her profile was clearly visible; so was her swollen and bruised cheek.

"Son of a bitch!" Puck cursed loudly. Both Rachel and Kurt jumped at the unbridled fury in his tone. The glass of water Rachel had been holding went flying, smashing against the side of the coffee table as it dropped from her suddenly limp fingers and clattered loudly onto the wooden floorboards.

"Noah!" Her eyes flew to his and their gazes locked.

"So it's fucking true," he ground out, barely keeping himself in check as he approached her slowly. He had heeded Quinn's warnings and tried to remain calm, but that was before he'd come face to face with Rachel's injury.

She watched him warily, unconsciously tugging the blanket that had been draped over her lap higher, as if it could protect her from the anger that was rolling off of him in waves. The shattered glass crunched under his boots as he came to stand in front of her. Puck crouched down and reached his hand out to touch her face. He didn't miss the way she flinched. She held her breath as his warm palm cupped her jaw, his thumb stroking lightly over her discolored skin. She hissed at the contact and his expression changed. His eyes softened, compassion vying for dominance now as he pushed away the rage he felt towards her husband and focused on the women in front of him.

"Fuck Rach," he murmured, unable to look away from the melange of purple, blue and black. "Fuck."

"How did you know?" She whispered, her fingers curling into a ball, the blanket bunching in her fists. "Quinn?"

"Charlotte," he corrected. When her eyebrows shot up in surprise he explained, "she said you had a boo-boo." He paused for a beat, "I thought I should kiss it and make it better."

The corner of her lip lifted marginally and he was glad he could make her smile, if only for a second. "I'm gonna fucking kill him, you know that right?" He told her seriously, rising slightly to sit on the edge of the sofa, his knees pressed against her thigh. Despite her insistence the night before that she didn't want him to know about her situation and she didn't want him involved, Rachel felt an immeasurable amount of relief now that he was there. She leaned into his side and his arms automatically came around her, holding her to his chest.

"No you won't," she said softly, resting her uninjured cheek on his shoulder, the soft material of his plaid shirt tickling her skin. She felt the steady thump of his heart under her palm and sighed inaudibly; she was so tired, having barely managed to sleep a full R.E.M cycle the night before. Between Quinn's visit that afternoon and Kurt's incessant hovering she'd been unable to nap and truthfully, couldn't relax enough to fall asleep anyway.

But with Puck beside her, she felt the tension drain from her body as she soaked in his warmth. He was so comforting, so large and protective - he instantly made her feel safe and she knew that with him there, she was. It was ridiculous, she knew, to feel so jittery and afraid when she was in the comfort of Kurt and Brad's home, but that's how she had felt from the moment she'd turned to see Michael standing in the doorway of her bedroom. She loathed playing the role of damsel in distress and was anxious to shake the feeling.

"I fucking will," he was arguing, running his fingers through her hair. "He's such a fucking weak bastard. Let's see how tough he is trying to hit someone his own size."

"Noah, you're hardly 'his own size'." Rachel reasoned quietly, tracing idly on his jean clad thigh. "You have a good 5 inches on him and at least 30 pounds – I'd wager that's all muscle too. I _know_its all muscle."

Puck smirked proudly. _Yeah__she__did_. "Don't care," he replied grimly.

She pushed away from him slightly and brushed the bangs away from her face. "Promise me you won't seek him out, Noah." She requested solemnly.

Both Puck and Kurt, who was still standing just inside the door, snorted. Rachel spared her best friend a glance that said he wasn't helping matters, before looking back at Puck. "Please Noah," she pleaded, "you have to promise me."

"And why would I do that?" He asked arrogantly, leaning back into the chaise cushions.

"Because I'm asking you to," She held his gaze steadily. "My marriage and my divorce have nothing to do with you. I can handle that on my own, with Brad's help of course. He is an excellent lawyer after all, and I trust him implicitly."

"Babe-" Puck started but Rachel held up her hand to silence him.

"Promise me," she asked again. "Noah…" she closed her eyes, gathering her strength for the battle she knew she'd have to wage to have him see things her way. "I have a feeling the separation is going to be messy and with Michael being less than amicable, I don't want you to get involved and give him another excuse to be any more unreasonable that I anticipate he will be. Let me deal with it my way and you just focus on the baby, alright?"

"The baby..." Realization dawned on his face and Rachel looked at him curiously. He leapt to his feet, the broken glass crunching again under his boots as he began to pace. "You're fucking pregnant, Rachel! You're fucking pregnant and he hit you!"

Kurt crept into the room and stood behind the chaise lounge, his hands resting lightly on Rachel's shoulders as they watched him prowl angrily around the room, muttering under his breath.

"Noah-" she reached out her hand to him but he barely acknowledged the movement.

"I forgot about the baby, can you believe it? When I heard he'd hit you I just-" he stopped, running his hand over his face in agitation. "I just had to haul ass to get over here. I didn't stop to think about-" again he paused, turning towards his audience, his hands on his hips and a scowl firmly in place.

"You have to report him."

"No." Rachel shook her head immediately. Her fingers dug into her pajama clad thigh and she took a deep breath. She felt much more together now that she had yesterday when she had this same conversation with Brad and Kurt, but she knew that her grasp on her composure was tenuous at best. It was taking more energy that she had to remain calm and rational, when all she wanted to do was curl up in bed and sleep – and cry - leaving the reality of her situation behind, if only for a few blissful hours.

"Rach, come on, you have to." He crossed back over to her side and sat on the coffee table in front of her, taking her hands in his. Kurt watched him uneasily. That was a five thousand dollar, hand carved mahogany table; it was sturdy, but it made him cringe to see the bulk of Puck's weight perched on the edge of it.

"I'm not reporting it," she repeated stubbornly, while silently willing him to back off. She didn't know how much longer she could hold up this façade of quiet strength when her insides were quivering and those tears that always seemed so close to the surface these days wanted to bubble up in her throat and spill over.

Puck looked over her shoulder, asking Kurt for help with a quirk of his eyebrow. The designer held up his hands, "Don't look at me, I agree with you. I told Rachel the same thing, but she doesn't want to subject herself to the publicity a domestic violence charge would attract, and it's not something she thinks she'll be able to deal with right now."

Puck sighed looking back at her, "Rachel, this is stupid. You can't let him get away with it."

She stared at him mutinously, a surge of anger unexpectedly flaring up. "It's not your decision to make." She felt as though his protests were an attack of her ability to make the right decisions for herself and by extension, their baby. She had spent so long in a relationship where her opinions were discounted and she hadn't been in control of her own life for longer than she cared to remember. She was tired of being submissive and letting others decide what was best for her, and she resented the implication that she was stupid for disagreeing with her friends who had never suffered through the humiliation and speculations that she had been subjected to these past few years.

She and Michael had given people in their social circles enough gossip to last a lifetime; she didn't intend to provide them with anymore if she could help it. If seeing Michael walk away from their marriage with his reputation intact was the price of ensuring their dirty laundry wasn't splashed through the papers, well, then that was the price she had to pay.

Puck eyed her thoughtfully, recognizing the determined glint in her eye. He shifted restlessly, wanting to shake her or yell at her for being so fucking stupid, but on some level he knew what she was saying to be true. He didn't have the right to tell her how to handle this; didn't mean he couldn't try and make her see reason though. Grudgingly too, he was inwardly please to see her regain some of that spark she had lost, even if that stubbornness was directed at him.

"It's fucking shit to even suggest this, but don't you think you could use what he did to you to your advantage?" His gaze again came to rest on her battered face. The skin was tight and shiny and from his involvement in underground fight club back when they were teenagers and the fact that his badassness had led to smack downs on more than one douche bag in his time, the deep bluish-black tone told him _exactly_ how much force had been behind that punch. His fingers tightened over hers as he ground his teeth and Rachel shivered; from his pinched expression she thought Michael should start praying he never ran into Noah in any deserted alleyways.

"You're worried he's going to slander you and make it impossible for you to work, right?" It was a struggle to make his tone seem calm and collected when rage was the most prominent emotion he was feeling at that moment. "Well, how about pre empting that? I think those directors and casting agents would think twice about listening to anything a fucking wife basher had to say."

Kurt had been thinking along the same lines but he knew Rachel, she wouldn't want people pitying her or worse, being seen as a victim – her motto was never let them see you break. He suspected that attitude had started in high school when she had to arm herself against the taunts and the harassment, ironically predominantly thrown at her by the man sitting in front of her in his den.

She was silent, staring at their hands and when she looked back up at him, his gut clenched at the sheen of tears she saw in her eyes. "I can't."

"Why babe?" He asked gently, mindful of Quinn's warning of not to push her. Rachel could only shake her head and he sighed inaudibly. Quinn had been right; Rachel was fragile right now, and it sickened him to his core. He'd held onto this image of Rachel over the years of how she'd been when they were teenagers – loud, abrasive, and unwaveringly strong. Seeing her now, literally battered and broken, made him homicidal. What kind of man would raise his hand to a woman, especially one so beautiful and fucking tiny as her? Puck couldn't shake the image of her sprawled on the ground with that fucker standing over her, and he swore under his breath. He moved back to the sofa and pulled her back into the protective circle of his arms.

"He's not going to hurt you again, baby. I promise. He'll have to go through me first and you know I'll fuck him up if he tries."

"I know that, Noah. Thank you," she said quietly, wrapping her arms around his waist as she curled up next to him. "I just don't think I can cope with the drama of it all. I'm so emotionally spent, I just need a break; I need to disassociate myself from it. I need out of that world for a while."

Puck looked up and Kurt and asked him wordlessly to give them some privacy. Kurt hesitated then nodded slightly, tip toeing from the room and closing the door quietly behind him.

"Why didn't you want to tell me?" He asked when he couldn't contain it any longer. If he was honest, he was pretty fucking pissed off. He was her baby daddy; he spent the last couple of the weeks trying to convince her that she could count on him to support her, and when the first real test of that promise had come along she hadn't allowed him the opportunity to prove himself. He wanted to resent her for the guilt that was starting to eat him up – he knew it was a mistake to think she could deal with her husband on her own - but when he looked down into her dark brown eyes, all he could do was brush a gentle kiss to her temple. "Rach, you should have called me." He stroked his fingers over hers and waited patiently.

She sucked her lip between her teeth and shrugged slightly. "I felt like this was something I needed to deal with on my own. And maybe-" she paused, collecting her thoughts. "Maybe I just didn't want to bother you."

He pulled back and gave her an incredulous look. "What the fuck kind of answer is that?"

"Noah," Her voice was soft, "I don't know what we're doing here. We're having a baby but we're not in a relationship. I'm married-"

"To a fucker," he interjected, "A fucker that hit you. And you're divorcing him, as soon as fucking possible." He told her gruffly, pointedly.

She didn't disagree, she just moved the conversation along. "I'm not entirely sure where the lines are with us. We've agreed to raise a child together, we kiss sometimes," she caught his look and rolled her eyes. "Alright, perhaps we do more than just that, more often than not in inappropriate settings," she smiled briefly at his smirk. "But I don't know what we are, Noah. Truthfully, we don't even know each other. Not anymore, not really. It didn't feel right to call you about this. You couldn't do anything."

"I could be here," her countered, unexpectedly hurt by her explanation. "I could be doing this." She didn't ask what 'this' was. She knew. He was here, holding her hand and caressing her spine – comforting her in a way that no one had been able to since the 'incident' as she dubbed her confrontation with Michael.

"You could be right," she admitted, "I like this." She admitted, her hand tightening in his shirt. He smelled so good and his body was so firm and solid against her, she wondered if it would be too much to ask if he stayed the night with her. Waking up the other day and knowing that he had been in bed with her had been heaven, and right now she couldn't think of anything else she wanted more than to be lying in his arms breathing him in and forgetting everything but the life they had created together.

"That's bullshit, Rach. You know me, and I know you. I want you to know you can count on me. If you hurt, I'm gonna bust some skulls. S'always been that way" He reminded her, running his fingers through her hair.

And it had been. He had been her champion on more than one occasion. Throwing Jacob Ben-Israel into lockers for attempting to take naked pictured of her was one thing, but he had been willing to defend her to Jesse, when the former Vocal Adrenalin lead had tried to sell her soul to a bunch of chickens. And they hadn't even been what she considered friends back then. He had _always_ had his fists on standby when her honour needed defending – even when his defense of her put his popularity in jeopardy and strained his relationships with his team mates and people he had formerly considered friends.

Dave Karofsky had been a jock Puck had never considered a friend, but he had always tried to remain on good terms with the hockey player whose reputation as the school's biggest bully had often undermined Noah's own badass status. Puck hadn't hesitated to break the unspoken treaty though when Dave and convinced her to go on a date with him during their Senior year and the next Monday at school, had practically mauled her in the hall between classes. Evidently Puck didn't like the surprised squeak she had let out at the contact and the fact that her quiet "David, please don't touch me like that," hadn't seen the hockey player unhand her fast enough. Karofsky had needed three surgeries on his face when Puck was done with him, and even then his nose was never as straight as it had once been.

She could list individual instances for days of where he had come to her aid, because the fact of the matter was that he had always been protective of her. She should know better than to think that would change just because they were older and theoretically she could take care of herself. He would argue that point anyway, given there was a bruise on her face that suggested otherwise.

"We're supposed to be a team now, you and I," he continued, "and like it or not, I'm already involved in this mess with the douchebag. Who the hell do you think dumped you right in the middle of it anyway? Me."

"Can we not do this again? Please don't say that." Rachel chastised, frowning up at him.

"Say what?" He asked cluelessly.

"My marriage to Michael was ultimately always going to end in divorce court. I don't want us to talk negatively about our situation, about how we got here. I want our baby to know that while his or hers conception may not have been conventional or planned, we still wanted them."

"Rach, you know I'm happy about the baby." He skimmed his palm over her jaw. "I'm just saying that you can't shut me out because you want to handle your divorce and the fuckwit by yourself. You should have called me. I would want you to call me if you need anything."

"Ok," she accepted quietly.

His eyes searched hers, "Ok?"

Rachel nodded resting her head back against his shoulder. "In hindsight I admit I should have called you. I miscalculated the role you have in my life now; I just didn't want you to see me like this."

His cheek rested against the top of her head. "Like what, babe?"

She drew in a breath, "Weak."

He sighed, "Babe, we've been over this. You're not weak."

"I feel like I am," she admitted quietly. "I'd do anything to not have to face him again. I've been afraid to close my eyes in case I wake up and I'm back there in the penthouse, living under his thumb, too afraid to assert my opinion over anything – our marriage, my career…..how did I end up like this?"

"Baby," he murmured, caressing her cheek gently.

"Will you stay with me tonight?" She asked tremulously, her exhaustion apparent.

"Yeah," he dipped his head. "But not because I think you're weak and you need me." He told her seriously, brushing the dark hair back from her face.

"No?" she smiled indulgently, "Then why?"

Puck shrugged, a smirk tugging at his lips. "I'll let you in on a secret: I like to spoon." He winked and Rachel laughed, and then yawned. He checked his watch and saw that it was just shy of nine o'clock. "Whoa, right on schedule. It's past your bedtime, babe."

She elbowed him good naturedly, feeling a hundred times better just having him in the same vicinity as her, and he chuckled. He stood up and felt the glass crunch again under his boots. "Fuck, gotta clean that up." He muttered. He eyed her bare feet, his gaze resting on the red polish on her cute little toes before he lifted her up with strong arms and carried her towards the door.

"What are you doing?" She asked in surprise, looping her arms around his neck.

"Don't want you to cut yourself. Where are we sleeping?" Rachel directed him to Kurt's studio that was doubling as her bedroom for the time being. Puck looked around the room noting that the bed was barely visible amongst Rachel's belongings and the rolls and rolls of fabric that swamped the room. Rachel followed his gaze.

"It's just temporary, until I work something out." She said complacently when she saw his frown.

Puck dropped her carefully on the small futon bed and told her he was going to clean up the glass in the den while she got ready for bed. She nodded and offered him a small smile as he left.

As soon as he stepped out of the guest room and shut the door behind him, he was accosted by Kurt who grabbed him by the elbow and pulled him away from the door with a strength Puck didn't know the slight man possessed.

"So what's the plan, Rocky?" Kurt asked eagerly, his blue eyes alight with anticipation.

Puck tugged his arm out of his grip; no dude's nails should be that sharp. "What plan? What are you talking about?" He mumbled, starting back towards the den. "You got a broom dude? Gotta sweep up that glass."

Kurt crosses to the hall closet and retrieved a dustpan and broom and followed Puck into the den where he perched on the edge of the chaise and watched Puck sweep up the shards of glass from the wooden floorboards.

"I know you aren't going to let Michael get away with what he did to Rachel, so I want to know what your plan is. Whatever it is, I want in."

Puck sat back on his hunches and looked up, taking in the determined expression on the other man's face and the way his slender fingers were clenched into tight fists. He never would have thought it beforehand, but he figured when it came to dealing with Rachel's soon to be ex-husband, Kurt would make an excellent wingman. At the very least he could scratch the Douche's eyes out.

"I don't have a plan," he admitted unhappily, pushing up from the floor. "You heard Rachel, she doesn't want me to confront him."

Kurt chuckled humorously and after a minute, when he saw that Puck's own lips were fixed into a straight line, the smile on his face faded. "Wait, seriously? You're going to listen to her?"

Puck cocked his head to the side, "You're not?"

Kurt just gaped at him, "But…you're Puck," he said nonsensically, but Puck seemed to know exactly what he was trying to convey.

"I'm not a 17 year old hot head anymore Hummel. It took me a fucking long time to figure out that not everything can be solved by throwing a couple of punches."

His statement was met with a look of scepticism. "Ri-ght," Kurt drawled. "So you don't want to beat Michael to a bloody pulp right now, after seeing the damage he did to Diva's face?"

"I didn't say that," Puck said immediately and Kurt smirked triumphantly and lithely jumped to his feet.

"Right, well. Let me go change and I'll come with you." he looked down at his outfit and smoothed his hand over the wooden toggles. "This shirt is silk, and while my dry cleaner is amazing – seriously, he's gotten red wine stains out of cream cashmere, Puck – I really don't want to test his expertise and see how he fares with blood stains."

"Hold up there, Killer." Puck leaned forward as Kurt went to exit the room, and pulled on the back of the shirt Kurt was so protective of. The action earned him a nasty glare and Puck had to hide his grin. "Look dude, as much as I want to show up on the assholes doorstep and like, remove his spleen with my bare fucking hands, I gotta keep myself in check."

"Why?" Kurt wondered, his eyebrow furrowing.

"Because that's not what Rachel needs me to do right now." Puck replied simply. "Rachel needs me to be right here with her and our baby. So, as much as it kills me to know that fucker is sitting in his fucking penthouse, smug as fucking fuck thinking he's gotten away with this, and believe me," he stopped and ground his teeth together. "Believe me," he repeated tightly, "it is fucking _killing__me_to leave this alone. But I have to respect her wishes."

Kurt actually pouted and Puck laughed dryly. "I know man, it sucks."

Kurt nodded and sighed heavily, rubbing his fingers wearily against his temple. "You're right, I know you're right," he murmured unhappily. "I just wish she would report him. Letting him get away with this is just crazy."

"Well, this is Berry we're talking about." Puck tipped the shards of glass into a waste paper basket near the door and handed the dustpan and broom to Kurt. "She's always been loopy." He gave Kurt a lopsided smile when he nodded sombrely.

"That's true," Kurt agreed and both men laughed. "It's part of her charm," he added and Puck nodded emphatically.

When their laughter faded there wasn't much more to talk about and they stood in awkward silence for a moment.

"Ok," Puck said eventually, running his hand over his head, "I'm gonna-" he jerked his thumb in the direction of the spare room.

Kurt nodded, "Take care of her," he instructed needlessly; he knew Puck would.

"Sure thing. 'Night."

Kurt watched Puck exit the room and noted appreciatively the way the denim molded to his backside. Good Lord, the man was sinfully attractive; Rachel was one lucky starlet.

Their baby was going to be _gorgeous_.

***/***

When Puck entered the bedroom, he immediately shucked off his shoes and reached for his belt buckle. Rachel pretended to fuss with the covers so that she wasn't staring at him as he stripped down to his boxers and t-shirt.

"You don't have to come to bed if it's too early for you."

He paused as she said that and licked his lips as he looked at her lying back against the pillows as she waited for him to join her. He liked the way she said that, his mind replaying just the 'come to bed' bit and taking it to a decidedly NC-17 place.

"While a nine o'clock bedtime seems like heaven to me," her voice interrupted his fantasy of her wearing a lot less clothing than she had on now. "I'll understand if you want to stay up and watch television or something. We can't all be tired pregnant women."

He snorted and pushed back the covers to crawl in next to her. She had expected him to turn the single lamp that was illuminating the room off, but he just lay down next to her, his lips brushing just below her ear before ghosting lightly over her bruised cheek. "What are you doing?" Her breath had caught in her throat as his hand tugged at the drawstring on her pajama pants. His fingers pushed her tank top up slightly as he pressed his large palm against her belly.

"Kissing it better," he answered, searching for her lips. She turned her head to meet him and they shared a kiss that was much too brief for Puck's liking. Rachel pulled back and her hand found his bicep, she _adored_ his arms.

"It is better," she told him with a small smile. He didn't look convinced and his fingers returning to her cheek, his free hand still resting on her belly as he hovered over her. He couldn't stop staring at it; the bruise was taunting him, telling him he was too late to undo her hurt, and that it was all his fault. If he had only given into that gut feeling that had overtaken him on Wednesday afternoon that had told him to drive back to her and stay until she was moved out of the penthouse and away from her husband, she wouldn't be lying next to him with her perfect complexion marred by violence.

"Explain to me again why you won't report him," he requested quietly, his eyes briefly leaving her cheek to look into her eyes. He told Kurt that he would respect her wishes and he intended too; he just wanted to understand where her head was at. "Please tell me you're not doing it out of some fucked up misplaced guilt, or worse, because you have lingering feelings for him or some shit."

His jaw clenched when she didn't immediately respond. "Rachel, tell me you know you don't owe him anything."

"I know." She hurried to assure him when it looked as though his anger was returning. "Any feelings I had for Michael faded a long time ago, I told you that."

He nodded, "Then why?"

Her eyes fluttered shut as she enjoyed the ministrations of his fingertips on her face. She was still tender and her injury hurt to touch, but there was something soothing about his caress, she just couldn't get enough of it.

"Why Rachel?" he prompted. "He's going to take everything away from you and you might have an opportunity to stop him. Why won't you take it?"

"You wouldn't understand."

"Try me," he retorted.

She rolled on her side and he dropped his weight from his elbow and shifted closer so he was sharing her pillow. Rachel took the time to stare at the sheer perfection of his features, taking a moment to wonder what parts of him their baby would inherit, before explaining.

"The baby could be my one chance Noah. I feel like it's a fresh start. If I go back to Broadway I want to know that any part I'm offered and the amount of dollars I see on my contract is a reflection of me and my talent. I don't want to have to wonder anymore whether what I've done and all that I've accomplished was due only to whom I was married too."

He rolled his eyes, "Are we back to this, Rach? You're amazing, you know you are. You got this far on your voice and your determination alone. Douchebag might have sweet talked and greased palms to make his own deals, but there's no fucking way that you were going to get up on stage and ever do anything but own it. Whoever cast you in those plays knew that babe; I don't doubt it for a second."

Rachel smiled and scooted even closer, kissing his t-shirt clad chest as she dipped her head. "I like that you think that." she said shyly.

"S'true."

He felt her shrug. "I wish I believed that, but the truth is that I don't. I deserve to be up there Noah - that much I'm certain - but I need to prove to myself that I can make it on my own."

He was silent for a long time. "That kind of thinking is whacked, but whatever. So, he's really going to get away with this?" He touched her cheek gently and she shrugged again.

"And I'm really not allowed to break_his_ face," Puck clarified darkly.

"No, absolutely not. Michael would press charges against you and while I have unwavering faith that you're going to be an amazing father, even I doubt how good a job you'll do from the confines of a jail cell."

He snorted.

"You need to let me have this one." Rachel said softly, her face still pressed into his chest. "I really want us to focus on the baby and work out the logistics of raising it together. I don't want Michael to overshadow that for us. He has tainted enough. Please, Noah."

Puck sighed as he reluctantly gave in. Apparently Berry had him wrapped around her delicate little finger – since when had it been so hard to deny her something?

"I believe it's in the pregnancy contract," Rachel replied sweetly. Yes he had said that out loud. "According to Quinn, impregnating me means you need to give in to all of my demands for the entirety of my pregnancy. It's a rule."

"Is that so?" He arched his eyebrow challengingly but the effort was futile. She was his baby momma; he knew he would give her anything she asked for. Apparently, thanks to Quinn, Rachel knew that too.

"Just, please don't feed my kid that Vegan shit ok? He's a Puckerman, he needs meat." He rubbed her stomach and she giggled, her eyes big and bright.

"A Vegan diet can provide adequate sustenance for a growing fetus, Noah." She tried to tell him, "But in any case, it appears you have nothing to worry about. I walked past a restaurant the other day and all I could smell was beef – my mouth was actually watering. I have a feeling I'll give into the cravings at some stage and send you out for burgers. If there was any doubt as to this child's paternity, that indicator should set your mind at ease. This carnivore in my belly is definitely yours."

Her tone was teasing but he couldn't smile back at her, "I know, Rachel. I know it's mine."

Her smile dropped at the seriousness of his tone. "Noah-"

"No, you said before that we didn't know each other but I'm gonna tell you again, I think that's bullshit. I know you're not the type of woman to sleep around and I know that when you told me that night that you'd never cheated, I might have said some things that made it seem like I didn't believe you-"

"It doesn't matter-" she insisted.

"It does," he cut her off. "It does, Rach. I had no right to talk to you like that. It just hit me you know, that you were taken - you were someone's _wife_ - and yet there I was anyway, fucking you." She winced at his candidness. "I thought I'd changed, I wasn't that guy anymore – the one who slept with other people's girlfriends."

"You're not." She ran her palm over his face, distressed to have given him any reason to doubt himself.

"You said that you'd never cheat," he repeated, "And I couldn't figure out why you did. Why it was ok for you to do it with me – aside from the guaranteed multiples that is." He could help but add smugly.

Rachel couldn't bring herself to smile or even roll her eyes in exasperation at his inopportune bragging. "I don't know either, Noah. I just needed you. I needed this." She gestured between them. "I'm just so scared that we won't be able to make this work. Six months ago I couldn't have predicted that I'd be laying here with you, _pregnant_." She shook her head as if she was still in shock. "Are we kidding ourselves? How are we going to do this?" She was looking at him like he had all the answers and all he could do was shrug.

"We just will. One day at a time, Rach."

"One day at a time," she murmured, clearly unsatisfied by his response.

"What else can we do?" He wanted to know. "We need to spend time together, get comfortable with each other."

She bit her lip, "So we're friends that are raising a baby together?" she questioned, "that's all?" She couldn't mask her disappointment.

He gazed at her speculatively, "Isn't that what you wanted? The other night you told me you didn't want us to complicate anything by having sex again."

"Ever?" There was no mistaking the dismay in her tone and he threw his head back and laughed. She was smiling slightly when his laughter turned to chuckles and then finally subsided.

"Not forever," he assured her warmly, his finger dipping under her waist band of her pajama bottoms to skim along the top of her panties. "Whenever you say the word I'm ready to complicate the shit out of this." It was her turn to laugh as he leered at her and she couldn't help but lean forward and kiss him.

"Good to know," she whispered against his lips. "But I think what I said was an accurate assessment of our situation. We're both going to have difficulties adjusting to the fact that we have a baby on the way. I think anything that happens between us now will make it more difficult and confusing." Rachel ignored the pang in her heart as she repeated a statement that was a paraphrase of one she had been on the receiving end of when she was a teenager, longing for a relationship with a mother that hadn't wanted anything to do with her.

He frowned, "I'm not going to pretend I don't want to be with you, Rach. I do. I kind of wanted that before I even found out about the baby."

His words took the sting of rejection the memory of her mother had caused. Her eyes sparkled happily, "Really?"

Puck nodded, "I came to your show, remember?"

"I remember," she thought back to what had transpired in her dressing room and lowered her eyelashes, a blush spreading over her cheeks. He tipped her chin so he could continue looking at her.

"I didn't go just so I could try and fuck you again." He told her, knowing where her thoughts had strayed. "I just wanted to see you. When that Chloe bitch tried to blackmail you and you told me to leave, I didn't think I'd even see you again. You were married and it sucked Rach, knowing that I'd missed my chance with you in high school and having to accept that I might not ever get another shot."

"We have something here, Rachel. It might just be an insane amount of sexual chemistry but I don't think that's all it is. We could build on it and be really great together. We'll just, I dunno-" he paused, "Take it slow."

"Starting now?"

His gaze fell to her lips. "How about starting tomorrow?" He proposed.

She was confused, "Why tomorrow?"

"Because I want to make out." He told her roguishly. "I told you I had to kiss it better and I don't believe you when you say it is." Once again he trailed gentle kisses over her cheek. Rachel smiled and kissed him back when he found her lips again.

"Tomorrow sounds good," she agreed with a smile as she rolled onto her back and pulled him down to her so he could kiss her more soundly. That night she found out that his lips did indeed have magical healing powers; his kisses made everything better.

***/***


	10. Welcome Home

_**A/N: If I didn't get around to replying to your review I'm very sorry! I'm in the middle of a 19 day straight work stint and don't know whether I'm coming or going! But you know I love hearing from you!**_

Days later, Rachel was pacing Kurt and Brad's kitchen with her cell phone pressed to her ear as Puck entered, bags of Chinese takeaway in his hands. He looked to Kurt who had let him in and had trailed him to the kitchen, and jerked his chin questioningly at his baby momma who had stopped pacing long enough to write something down on the legal pad in front of Brad, underlining it furiously before resuming her pacing.

"S'up with them?" He asked curiously, noting that Brad too had a phone glued to his ear, his face set in what Puck deemed 'lawyer mode'.

Kurt paused from pulling out plates and glasses to fill him in. "They've been at it all afternoon. Brad filed Rachel's divorce papers today and it seems that Michael immediately took counteraction and has frozen all of his and Rachel's joint accounts. Unfortunately, those accounts are where her salary was deposited and where most of her savings are."

"Can he do that?" Puck asked with a frown as he pulled the containers and chopsticks from the bag. He snagged Rachel around the waist as she neared and placed a gentle kiss on the cheek that was slowly starting to heal. He'd done that a lot over the last couple of days and Rachel couldn't help but flash him the small smile she had rewarded him with each time.

"Apparently yes." Kurt answered as Brad sighed loudly, drawing everyone's attention.

"This is completely unorthodox, Davidson and you know it," he spat into the receiver. "That property was purchased using my clients own money and the mortgage was signed in her name, prior to her marriage to Mr Weitzmann. He has no claim on that asset, just as she has no claim on the house in the Hampton's his parents brought him for his 21st birthday, according to the terms of the pre-nuptial agreement. Neither asset was intended to be entered into any settlement; therefore he has no right to weigh in to any decision made into the subletting or sale of Ms Berry's apartment."

Rachel's eyes widened at that before she was distracted by her own conversation.

Brad listened some more, his expression getting more frustrated with every passing second. "The circumstances surrounding Ms Berry and Mr Weitzmann's separation are not up for debate here, the fact remains that from a legal standpoint your client had no right to freeze their joint accounts without warning, and, should Ms Berry decide to evict her tenants to either sell or reside in the apartment herself, the decision is not Mr Weitzmann's concern."

Puck and Kurt kept one ear on each one-sided conversation as they dished the takeout onto plates, and when Rachel ended her call with a shriek of frustration, Brad hurriedly ended his telephone call as well. He snagged a plate of Chinese and pointed his chopsticks at Rachel, "You first. What did the bank say?"

Rachel ran her hand over her ponytail in agitation as she slumped into a chair at the kitchen table. "They cannot unfreeze the accounts without Michael's written consent since he is the primary account holder. They can release the funds in the term deposits I have in my name, for a fee, but it's not much since I transferred most of my liquid funds into the mortgage for my apartment last year. All of my salary and endorsements went into the joint account Michael and I have, that's where the tenants deposit their rent and where mortgage payments are drawn from."

Brad swallowed a piece of sweet and sour pork before he spoke. "That there is the problem, Rach." He told her as Kurt joined them and Puck placed a plate in front of Rachel and took the seat to her left. "Because your mortgage payments came out of the joint account – an account that Michael has control over – it makes it seem as thought the apartment you brought before you were married is a joint asset, despite the terms of your pre-nup. His attorney has filed a type of restraining order on any sale or lease changes on the apartment, which means you can't give the tenants notice to move out like you had planned, so you could live in it yourself. We need to fight him in court to clear that up and prove he has no claim on it."

Rachel took a deep breath as tears sprung to her eyes. She knew the divorce was going to be difficult but already the stress was getting to her, and they'd barely even begun the fight! Puck glanced sidelong at her as he felt her shudder beside him. He put down his fork and rubbed his hand soothingly between her shoulder blades. "S'ok, babe."

She just shook her head and looked back at Brad, "How long will that take? Sorting this all out?"

"It's hard to say," he told her unhappily. "We've got to lodge the petition and get assigned a court date. It's probably best that we just focus on pushing through the divorce so we can work on unfreezing your money and negotiate the apartment in the settlement. You're happy for him to keep the penthouse, correct?"

At Rachel's nod, Brad continued, "I think Michael's just pulling this stunt about the apartment because he knows you'll want to live in it now. He's determined to make it difficult for you to survive without him."

"Well he's succeeding," Rachel sniffed, wiping angrily at her tears. "He's made sure I have no money, nowhere to live – and that's all in the space of 72 hours. I haven't attempted to contact anyone about work yet." She leaned against Puck's shoulder.

"I haven't told my fathers about the baby yet, or the divorce. They're on a six month cruise at the moment. After Daddy's heart attack last year they both took sabbatical's from work so they could live life to its fullest – I don't want to have to call them for money and have them worry about me." Her fathers would be concerned about her change in circumstance but they would be overjoyed to learn she was seeking a divorce. Neither of her fathers had particularly warmed to her husband and in fact, they had quite pointedly told her last year when her father had been ill, that she should seriously consider the choices she had made in her life and if she wasn't happy, waste no time in rectifying her perceived mistakes so she wouldn't have any regrets later.

Rachel had known at the time that they were talking about her marriage, though they would never have come right out and said so.

Kurt was frowning at her, "Don't be silly, Diva. You know you are welcome here, you can stay as long as you like." Brad was nodding in agreement and she smiled her thanks.

"I appreciate that, but I'm pregnant. Thinking for two is a necessity now, I need to be able to support my baby and I can't do that when I'm jobless and effectively homeless; I'm living on a futon in your guest room-slash-work studio - that's not going to be very comfortable in a few months time when I'm so huge I can barely walk."

"So we'll buy you a bed," Kurt waved his hand dismissively. "I don't need to work from home; I'll take all that stuff back to the office. Oh!" he clapped his hands excitedly, "We can redecorate! I'm thinking light blue with silver accents-"

"Guys!" Puck, who had been silent up until that point, held up his hand as if he wanted to say something. When they were all looking expectantly at him he rolled his eyes. "I think you're all completely ignoring the most obvious solution."

"Which is?" Brad asked with an arch of his eyebrow and a small smile. He had his suspicions as to what Puck meant by that.

"Duh, Rachel moves in with me."

Rachel and Kurt were staring at him, mostly in surprise.

"Move in with you?" Rachel repeated just as Kurt wrinkled his nose and said with disdain, "Brooklyn? You want her to live in _Brooklyn_?"

Puck chuckled at Kurt's expression and turned in his chair to face Rachel, "I have a huge two bedroom apartment over the garage that I own outright. It's pretty nice – it has a terrace overlooking the park on the other side, a small home office and a big kitchen…." He trailed off, shrugging. "I mean, it's my baby you're carrying, so it makes sense that you live with me so I can look after you. That way you don't need to stress about money right away, you know I've got it covered."

"Noah," she covered his hand with hers and squeezed. "That's very honourable of you,"

He looked at her cautiously, "But?"

She shook her head, smiling. "There's no but." Rachel answered, "I agree that it is the most obvious solution seeing as we agreed you would be 100% involved in the pregnancy – living together ensures that, As long as you're sure though. I don't want you to feel obligated. I'm sure Dad and Daddy are in a position to help me financially if I want to rent an apartment until I have access to mine."

"No," he answered immediately, "I want you with me."

Her eyes were soft as she leant over to kiss him gently. "Thank you, Noah."

He grinned and shrugged, picking up his fork and pointing to her plate. "Eat." He ordered and she mock saluted him as she picked up her chopsticks and tucked into her vegetable stirfry. "Well, I suppose that's settled. I do need to pick up the rest of my things from the penthouse though. Brad, do you think you can call Michael's lawyer and arrange a convenient time for me to do so?"

"You're not going alone," All three men replied in unison. She looked taken aback as her gaze shifted between each of them.

"I won't," she promised, "I'll take one of you when I go."

"I call dibs," Puck said immediately, cracking his knuckles in a way that made her wince.

Rachel looked back at Brad, "Probably best to warn Michael not to be there, for safety's sake." She advised with a small smile, "He's very protective over his face and I fear he may give Noah cause to rearrange it."

Puck glowered into his fried rice, "Already got cause," he mumbled, "I'm protective when he tries to break_your_ face." She rubbed his bicep soothingly.

"Well I'm coming too." Brad decided. "I'll give his lawyer warning and if Michael were smart, he would make sure he was off the premises when we collect the rest of your things. But on the off chance he's there…" he nodded once at Puck and they shared a look of understanding that had Rachel narrowing her eyes.

"I will not condone violence," she said sternly, staring at each of them in turn. "I told you,_all__of__you_, to leave it alone. There will be no 'epic smackdown' on my soon to be ex-husband, no matter how hard you may be campaigning for such an event to take place."

Puck scowled, "Actually you said I couldn't go _looking_ for him. What if he's just there? If he's at the same place I'm at, and just _happens_ to walk into my fist, what can you do?" he shrugged and tried to look as innocent as possible.

Kurt tried hard not to snort into his Chow Mein and Rachel threw a fortune cookie at him with a glare before her attention returned to Puck. "Noahhhhhh," she drawled warningly until he rolled his eyes and muttered, "Ok, ok."

***/***

In the end, it was a convoy of men that had escorted her back to a thankfully empty apartment following Monday evening to collect her belongings. Michael had wisely stayed back late at the office while Puck and Brad stood around like hired brawn, watching with crossed arms and stoic expressions as she and Kurt swept systematically through each room and piled her suitcases and a few heavy boxes by the door ready for transport. Finn meanwhile, who had jumped at the chance to see how the other half lived (and had not wanted to miss the smack down Rachel was determined to avoid, and the men were secretly praying for), was wandering through the penthouse gaping at the size (twice as big as his brownstone in Brooklyn), the fixtures, and the décor - all of which screamed money.

Kurt had asked her several times during the two hours they were there how she was feeling, able to see right through the blank mask she had put on as they made the final arrangements to remove her from Michael's life altogether. She had answered each query with a stilted 'fine' every time, until Kurt told her on no uncertain terms that she was _not_ fine and that if he heard her say that she was one more time he would throw her entire collection of Judy Garland movies down the garbage shoot.

It wasn't until the were all standing by the curb in front of the building and she was staring at her belonging piled haphazardly into Puck's truck that she fell apart.

"It's alright, Diva," Kurt wrapped his arms around her as her breath began to quicken. "This is a day for celebration! No more Michael, no more Rosa, no more palette of grays and charcoal – honestly I have no idea how you stomached living there all this time. I'm sure the walls were painted in the same shade reserved only for parking lots and maximum security prisons – it's a wonder that you've managed to hold onto any vivaciousness at all in the mausoleum."

It was meant to be comforting but Rachel found herself crying harder; she didn't feel like she had held onto any of her former spunk at all, it was quite the opposite. At that moment she felt drained and much older than her 28 years.

"Fuck Hummel, do you know anything about pregnant chicks and hormones?" Puck grouched, tugging Rachel out of Kurt's arms and into his own. He ran his large hands down her back and tucked her head under his chin. "Why are you crying, babe?" His chest rumbled under her ear

She mumbled through her tears something about six years of her life and all she had to show for it wasn't even enough to even fill the back of his truck. He held her tighter. He didn't now what to say to make it better. It sucked, he was sure, leaving behind a four bedroom, five bathroom piece of Upper West Side luxury living and seeing your stuff packed into suitcases that were probably worth more than the vehicle that was supposed to transport it out to Brooklyn.

"Well, we can take more shit," he told her. "What about that ugly statue by the front door – the naked warrior dude? That would look fucking fierce in my living room. Or that stupid water feature. Sure it would weigh a ton and I think it would make me wanna take a piss every five seconds, but if you want it I'll go up and get it right now."

She giggled, sniffing loudly. "That's sweet, but no. I don't want those things." She said softly, drawing back so she could look up at him.

"Then what babe?" he asked, confused. "I don't have a Picasso or a goddamn leather sofa but I'll make sure you're comfortable enough. What do you need? Whatever it is, I'll get it for you." he stroked her cheek and she leaned into his palm. Thanks to Kurt and a very expensive cover up, her bruise was barely detectable. Rachel shook her head and wiped her nose of her sleeve pathetically.

"Hot chocolate," she answered with a watery smile, giving him one last hug. "Do you have some back at your place?"

He nodded in relief, holding her to him for another minute, oblivious to the looks Finn and Kurt were exchanging at the uncharacteristic tenderness of his action. "Yeah Rach, hot chocolate I can do. Let's go home."

Brad and Kurt declined Puck's invitation to come and inspect Rachel's new digs, even after he threw in the offer of pizza and beer. Kurt and Brad hugged her goodbye and told her they'd conference call her later and then Rachel found herself uncomfortably sandwiched between Puck and Finn in the cab of the truck as they drove out to Brooklyn. They talked football on the way and Rachel stayed silent, her hand tucked firmly in Puck's and resting on his thigh.

When they reached the garage, Puck backed the truck into the drive and they both insisted she not lift a thing. She stood uselessly to the side as Finn and Puck made numerous trips between the truck and the apartment above the garage. On their second trip, Rachel followed them up the internal stairs from the workshop and saw that at the top it opened into a large living area.

"There's external stairs from the laundry room down to the back of the building," Puck told her, "But coz I spend most of my time downstairs I use these the most."

Rachel nodded and set down her purse – the only thing Puck had allowed her to carry – and looked around curiously when they boys went down to collect the next load. From what she could see from her vantage point, the entire apartment was bright and spacious. The walls were white and the lack of artwork or pictures on the wall made the color almost blinding. She noted the tasteful décor – dark greens and navy blues mostly; it was definitely what she imagined a bachelor pad should look like. The sofa was beige and comfortable looking and there were two large bookcases holding an extensive collection of DVDs flanking each side of the entertainment unit with a complicated looking stereo system and the biggest flat screen TV she'd ever seen.

The furniture was very masculine, all made from the same chocolate coloured wood with a coffee table and two recliner chairs, and a couple of beanbags smattered around the room. There were French doors that opened up onto a large terrace that ran the entire length of the building, and as Puck had said, overlooked a leafy green park across the road. The terrace was wide enough to accommodate an outdoor table setting for six and a sturdy looking hammock, as well as a couple of sun loungers and a ping pong table. Along one exterior wall sat a monster sized grill and an assortment of potted plants that looked to be growing fresh herbs – not that Rachel could identify them, she was somewhat of a hazard in the kitchen and had never quite learned the art of cooking. She fell in love with the space immediately and couldn't wait to waste the afternoons away there with her iPod and a good book.

As Puck set down a particularly heavy box and wiped a thin sheen of sweat from his brow, he gestured through to the kitchen and asked if she wouldn't mind getting him and Finn a beer each out of the fridge. She padded through the archway that divided the living area from the meals area and stopped short. She'd never spent much time in kitchens, giving her limited cooking ability and the fact that she'd had a housekeeper who had prepared most of the meals for Michael and herself, but even she knew that Puck's kitchen was well equipped with the latest appliances that would probably be the envy of seasoned chefs.

The dishwasher, oven and refrigerator looked to be industrial sized and there was an expensive looking coffee machine on the counter and a knife block that held so many varieties of knives, Rachel wasn't sure she'd ever learn what they were all for. She crossed to the fridge and ran her finger lightly over the assortment of buttons above the ice dispenser, trying to figure out what the symbols meant. Her contemplation must have lasted for a while as she felt Puck walk up behind her and touch her waist as he pulled open the door and bent over her shoulder to snag two beers. He handed one off to Finn and unscrewed the top off his own before taking a long pull from the bottle.

He wiped his mouth with the back off his hand as she stared at the mass amount of food piled into the refrigerator. "You wanted hot chocolate, right Rach?" He didn't bother to wait for her answer, he just reached for the milk and crossed to the stove to put a saucepan onto low heat. Puck chatted to Finn as he moved smoothly around the kitchen, stirring the cocoa while he pulled bread out from the bread bin and threw together a peanut butter and jelly sandwich that he thrust in her direction.

Rachel looked at him blankly.

"Eat," he said simply before he poured the hot chocolate into a large mug, added marshmallows and set it on the counter in front of where she was standing. "Drink,"

Her eyebrow arched at his authoritative manner and Finn laughed at her expression. "It's a dad thing, Rach," he told her. "We're kind of useless while the kid's like, incubating inside you, so we do what we can to take care of you, so we don't feel quite so unnecessary."

Rachel smiled at him, struck again by how grown up Finn was. He still had that boyish charm she remembered from their youth, but he was most definitely a man – and a family one at that. Her smile encompassed Puck and she obediently took a bite of her sandwich and Puck crossed his arms as he watched her, satisfied. By the time she'd finished her sandwich and hot chocolate, the boys had polished off their beers and Finn was ready to head home. He kissed her forehead and exchanged a complicated hand shake with Puck before throwing a goodnight over his shoulder and heading down the back stairs.

When it was just the two of them, they gazed at each other silently, almost as if they didn't know what to do or say to each other next. It was somewhat unnerving to know that they weren't going to be interrupted by Kurt or Brad or Rosa or Quinn, and they both shifted nervously. Rachel carried her plate and mug to the sink and rinsed them off, just so she had something to do. She wiped her hands on the dishtowel and refolded it, hanging it carefully over the handle of the oven door before turning back around to face him.

"Can you show me where the bathroom is? I'd like to freshen up a bit."

Puck nodded and walked her back to the living area, pointing down the hall. "The bedrooms are through there. Mines the one on the right; the bathroom is further down on the left."

She thanked him quietly and headed in the direction he had indicated, needing a few minutes reprieve. The bathroom, like the rest of the apartment was large and white. She was ecstatic to note that there was a deep bathtub as well as a shower stall, though she reflected ruefully that it would prove quite a difficult task getting in and out of the tub as her stomach expanded.

After washing her hands, she dried them on a blue handtowel and glanced at herself in the mirror above the sink. She looked tired, she noted, inspecting the black circles under her eyes. After a minute of finger combing the tangles from her hair she made a face at her reflection and then turned to leave. As her gaze swept around the room once more, she spied a pink loofah hanging from the tap in the shower that looked out of place against the navy towels on the rack and the matching bathmat hanging over the side of the tub.

Rachel paused, her brow furrowing as she stepped towards it. There was a cheap bottle of shampoo sitting at the bottom of the shower stall, a single bar of soap on the holder and a navy face washer drying over the top of the shower wall – three items that she would guess belonged to Noah – but it was the other items sitting neatly in the caddy that had her mind whirling with confusion.

Two bottles identifying themselves as shampoo and conditioner for color-treated hair stood side by side, with a mango and peach scented body gel and a facial cleanser for combination skin. Rachel imagined that if she asked Puck what kind of skin he had, he would accuse her of drinking the kool aid and ask her what the fuck she was talking about. Heart beating loudly, she turned back to the vanity and opened the medicine cabinet. Amongst Pucks razors, his deodorant and a bottle of near empty cologne, she found packets of tampons, a bottle of women's multi vitamins, an eyelash curler and what seemed like thousands of bobby pins.

She swallowed thickly. There had been a woman living here, and from the array of toiletries sitting in the shower, she assumed quite recently. There was a bright pink and orange toothbrush sitting next to a green one in a cup by the sink and when she bent down to check the cupboard underneath the vanity, what she found there had her freezing in place – birth control pills.

Rachel slammed the cupboard door shut and closed her eyes tightly. Was he seeing someone? She shook her head blindly. No, he could be. Hadn't he told her that he wanted to be with her? They were having a baby, he had invited her to live with him – he kissed her at every opportunity and it had taken a concentrated effort on both of their parts to avoid going any further when they had decided to take a step back in the intimacy department and take things slow.

There had to be another explanation. She leaned back against the sink and took a deep breath as she collected her thoughts. _What__other__explanation?_

She didn't know anything about his romantic entanglements prior to her; she hadn't thought to ask him. She didn't know whether he'd been serious about anyone, whether he'd come close to marriage or had contemplated starting a family with the woman he loved. That thought made her sick to her stomach. Rachel had been so excited about moving in with Puck since the moment he'd asked her. It was so exhilarating to start this new chapter in her life with him, living in close quarters and getting to know each other again. So thinking about another woman and her place in his life, was upsetting to say the least.

Rachel wanted to think she was special, that the way he acted (so committed to doing the right thing by her) was a reflection on his feelings for _her_, not simply the situation they found themselves in. She'd thought it would be wonderful to have him around to take care of her and the baby. It had seemed so domestic; she'd conjured up fantasies of them snuggling together on the couch, fighting playfully over the list for the weekly grocery shop and him coming up from the garage to check on her if she was home during the day.

But confronted now with the evidence of another woman residing here and imagining that faceless woman waking up next to him, joining him in the shower in the morning and making him coffee before he went to work - living here in this apartment was the last place she wanted to be.

She exited the bathroom and ran straight into a solid wall of muscle.

"Easy," he rested his hands on her shoulders to steady her. He knew right away something was wrong from the pained expression on her face. "Rach, what's wrong?"

"Nothing," she dismissed, glancing down as she recognized the tremor in her tone. "It's been a long day and I'm exhausted. Do you mind if I leave all of my things where they are and sort them out in the morning? I'd really like to go to sleep now."

"Um, sure." He replied, looking at her closely.

She brushed past him and returned to the living room, heading straight for the small bag she had packed her pajamas and her toiletries in earlier, having suspected that she would be too tired to rummage through her suitcases that evening.

He had followed her, his expression concerned. "Just a sec and I'll show you-"

"No need!" She cut him off, hurriedly slinging the bag over her shoulder as she retraced her steps towards the hall. "Goodnight Noah." She called over her shoulder. "I'll see you in the morning."

"Hey wait up, Rach," she ignored him and walked swiftly towards the bedrooms, practically sprinting past the one she knew to be his, and heading straight for the second one down the end of the hall.

She could hear the swish of his jeans as he followed. "Hold up, where do you think you're going?"

She wrenched open the door and pushed through it, intending on slamming it in his face so she could reflect on what she had discovered and burst into tears in the relative privacy of her new room, but the scream of horror from a stunningly attractive blonde girl, lying half naked across the bed in the centre of the room had Rachel gasping in surprise. Also startled was the shirtless boy perched between her thighs.

"Get the fuck out!" the girl shrieked, scrambling for a blanket to cover herself just as Puck came barrelling in behind Rachel.

"Aww fuck, Bec…." He had screwed up his face in disgust and turned his head to the side, his large hand outstretched in front of him as he tried vainly to erase the image before him. "What the hell is going on here?" he demanded loudly, wrapping his other hand around Rachel's arm.

"Oh my god," Rebecca moaned in mortification, trying her best to hide her body from view as she reached for her robe and shrugged into it. "Ever heard of knocking?"

"Not in my own god damn house," Puck retorted, finally able to look at them when his sister had covered up. He was glaring daggers at Becca's companion, who was taking his sweet ass time locating his shirt, apparently unconcerned that he was in danger of having his balls removed by a very irate Puck.

"You know the rules - no boys over when I'm not home; especially ones of the punk ass variety. You're 17 Bec, you don't have free reign here, even if you have talked Mom around with the whole safe sex thing – she doesn't have to live through it!"

Becca rolled her eyes, "What the fuck-ever," she muttered sullenly. "I asked you if Patrick could come over last week and you said it was fine. Not my fault if you forgot. If you'd actually come home once in a while, I'd have reminded you. I covered for you with mom by the way, if she finds out you virtually abandoned me this week she'd castrate you."

Puck crossed his arms and narrowed his gaze, "Don't try and lay a guilt trip on me. I've been around plenty. Three nights I was gone this week and all you had to do was call my cell if you needed something. You knew I had stuff to take care of."

Rachel, who had been silently observing the scene, suddenly found herself pinned by a set of hostile hazel eyes, the color identical to Puck's. "Right," the younger girl drawled, "the baby momma drama. Is this her?"

Puck nodded, uncrossing his arms and placing his hand on Rachel's lower back.

"Rach, this is my sister Rebecca. Bec, Rach." His gaze fell on the boy who had finally pulled his shirt back on and was lounging back on the bed as if he didn't have a care in the world. "Apparently the punk's name is Patrick." Puck added, curling his lip.

Rebecca made a slow perusal of Rachel's body from head to toe. Rachel shifted uncomfortably under the weight of the girls gaze and when their eyes met again, Becca arched her eyebrow and sneered, "S'up Tubbers?"

Rachel's eyes widened at the insult and she self consciously smoothed her hand over her stomach that she knew was still flat, looking up at Puck in askance. She didn't know what she'd done to deserve such a rude 'welcome' – besides barging into the girl's room unannounced, she supposed. He just shook his head ruefully, "Don't mind her, her default setting is bitch," he told her as if Becca and Patrick weren't in the room. "Probably why my Ma dumped her ass with me; she couldn't take the attitude any longer."

"Fuck you," Becca shot back, annoyed. "Are we done here?" She made a gesture indicating that they should turn around and leave the way they came.

"Leave the door open," Puck warned, fixing her with a stern look. "And I want him gone in the next 15 minutes."

He took a few steps and Rachel went to follow, pausing by the door to offer a tentative, "It was nice to meet you Rebecca."

Becca rolled her eyes and didn't bother to look at her, "Yeah, well the pleasure was all yours."

Rachel frowned as Puck grabbed for her hand and guided her the rest of the way out of the room "Ignore her," Puck muttered, "She has a superiority complex. Fucking 17 and thinks she's better than everyone." He led her back down the hall and stopped at his bedroom, pushing the door open and indicating that she should to precede him through.

Rachel set her bag down on the floor at her feet and turned towards him as he shut the door behind him. "You didn't tell me your sister was living with you, Noah."

"I didn't?" He feigned confusion, scratching his head, "Weird."

She fixed him with a look, "You know you didn't." She chastised quietly. "When you asked me to move in with you said it was into a huge two bedroom apartment above the garage-"

"Which it is." Puck interrupted, "Did you take a look around? S'pretty sweet. You thought it would be some grungy shit box, huh?"

"Your home is lovely, Noah." She dismissed his change of subject. "What you failed to disclose was that one of those bedrooms was already taken. How long have you had your sister living with you?"

Puck shrugged and flopped back on his bed. "About 6 months. Bec and my Ma moved here a few years back when I brought the business. I barely made it back to Lima after college and we don't have any other family in Ohio besides Nana who spends more time in Flrodia anyway, with her sister. Mom met a Doctor at the hospital she worked at and after they got married he was transferred to Chicago. Bec didn't want to leave her friends and since she planned on going to college in New York, we figured she might as well stay with me for her Senior year."

Rachel was silent for a moment as she digested this. She took a step towards the bed and rested her hand on the end of it as she glanced around. Like the rest of the apartment, the bedrooms were large. Puck's bedroom was slightly bigger that Rebecca's, with a king size bed tucked into the corner of the room with just the one bedside table and lamp, leaving ample space for a sofa on the opposite side of the room, next to where his guitar stand sat along with a pile of sheet music. The walk-in closet was practically empty and the dresser opposite the foot of the bed had a drawer open and socks spilling out, with a few scattered photo frames and a jar of loose change on the top.

"Look Rach, I should have told you about Bec, I kind of didn't mention her on purpose." he admitted. "I wanted you here and I guess I figured if you knew about her that you'd say no right away."

Rachel ran her hand over her hair, "It's fine, I suppose."

"She's not even here that often," he assured her. "She's crazy busy with school stuff. She writes and paints and does all that artistic shit, so she's got workshops and readings that she goes to most nights during the week, and she tends to stay over with friends on the weekends."

Rachel nodded hesitantly; Rebecca wasn't her biggest concern. "Where am I supposed to sleep?" She asked him softly, already knowing the answer. He looked at her like she was crazy and made a sweeping motion over the bed he was currently laying across. "With you," she surmised, chewing her bottom lip as she looked away awkwardly. "That's….unexpected." she finished lamely.

"What's the problem? We've shared a bed before, we made a _baby_." He reminded her, his tone exasperated. He could tell she had a problem with their sleeping arrangements and it left him puzzled.

"Yes, but…" She glanced at him, flushed. "This is different. I thought we were going to be roommates and that I would have my own room. I didn't realize moving in with you entailed _moving__in__with__you_," her tone emphasized the difference. "I don't know that I'm comfortable with this arrangement." Her eyes dropped to the ground as she fidgeted and Puck got up and moved towards her, resting his hands on her shoulders.

"What happened to not complicating things?" she asked him quietly, staring at the buttons on his shirt. "This feels like we're moving too fast."

He squeezed her shoulders, "S'not complicated. So we're sleeping together; doesn't mean there'll be any fucking going on. I mean, unless you want there to be." He added slyly.

She didn't crack a smile and he sighed, "Look, I honestly don't see what the big deal is. You can fit 5 people in that bed, just pick a side. Put up a fucking pillow barrier if you want; if you don't want me to touch you, I won't touch you, geez." If he was honest, he was angry and a little bit hurt over her reluctance and apparent horror at having to share a room with him. So she would kiss him, fuck him on occasion, and agree to have his kid - but having to sleep beside him every night, that was a problem? What the fuck?

"Noah, that's not what I-" she reached a hand out to him but he had stepped back and turned away.

"I'm going to watch some TV. You know where the bathroom is."

"Noah-" she tried again.

He shook his head, his jaw set. "Goodnight Rachel." He shut the door behind him with a resounding click. A few minutes later, still standing in the same spot, she heard Puck and Becca arguing after he had apparently thrown her 'friend' out. Rachel changed into her pajamas and slipped out of the bedroom to brush her teeth. When she crossed the hall on her way back she paused, listening to the sound of the TV and the crinkling of what sounded like a potato chip packet. She peeked around the corner and couldn't see anything but his feet hanging over the edge of the sofa.

Rachel stood indecisively, wondering whether she should go and talk to him and make him see that she was just concerned about them putting too much pressure on a relationship neither of them were ready to jump into just yet, but the opening of the door at the end of the hall had her scurrying back to Puck's bedroom and shutting herself inside. She chose the side closest to the wall and curled up under the heavy duvet, wriggling around until she was comfortable. In no time at all, despite her unsettlement over the way they had left things, she was fast asleep.

She had shut off the main lights and left the bedside lamp on for Noah when he came in, but when she woke up in the middle of the night, the lamp was still casting a soft glow around the room. Without having to turn her head she knew she was alone.

He hadn't come to bed.


	11. Silent Treatment

_**A/N: So sorry for the delay! The chapter's been done for ages but I'm currently in the USA, travelling and visiting with friends, so my computer time has been almost non existent….hope you are continuing to enjoy the fic – I've taken a lot of creative liberties with the pregnancy stuff in the next few chapters so to those who have actually popped out kids (unlike myself) - just go with it, ok? *hugs***_

The sound of the chime above the door drew Puck's attention from the stack of invoices he was entering into the computer and he looked up to see Rachel round the front counter and enter the back office with Quinn in tow.

"Hi," Rachel greeted quietly, in that tone she'd taken to using when speaking with him over the last few days. It was tentative and unsure, and he hated it more than watered down whiskey.

"Hey," he turned back to his paperwork and tried to ignore the way she shifted nervously from one foot to the other, waiting to see if he was going to say anything else. He wasn't. Quinn stood silently behind her, observing the stilted exchange as her eyes flicked between the two of them thoughtfully.

"I, um….I thought you might be hungry so I brought you lunch. Roast beef on rye." Rachel drew the wrapped sandwich from one of her bags and held it uncertainly, her arm half extended towards him.

"I've already eaten," the lie fell easily from his lips. The truth was, he'd been running behind all day and his stomach was going to start eating itself soon if he didn't refuel, he was that famished. But still, pride prevented him from accepting her offering. They'd barely spoken to each other since the night she basically told him that the thought of sharing a room with him had her breaking out in hives, and taking the sandwich from her seemed like some kind of sign that he was ok with being made to feel like crap.

He wasn't.

"Oh," there was no mistaking the disappointment in her voice and though he wasn't looking directly at her, he could still see the slump of her shoulders. "Well, I could put it in the fridge and you can eat it later."

"I'm going out with the boys after work. We'll probably grab some appetizers at the bar." Now he was being deliberately difficult.

It took her a moment to answer and when she did, her tone was calm and measured, but her rising frustration was evident. "Fine," she answered, glancing at Quinn. Quinn frowned sympathetically at her and Rachel shrugged helplessly, conveying she didn't know what more she could do. "I need to use the bathroom." She said flatly after another minute that was filled with silence and palpable tension. "I'll be upstairs, Quinn." She glanced once more at Puck and sighed, "Noah, I'm certain you'll ensure that I won't see you later, so I hope you have a good night." Her parting shot was to drop the sandwich pointedly in the trash can by the door to the workshop on her way through the garage towards the internal stairs. She waved at Lenny and Steve - two of Puck's full time employees - as they greeted her, but didn't stop to chat like she usually would. She was too upset to make small talk, and she wanted to put as much distance as she could between herself and Puck. It was evident that he couldn't stand to even be civil in her presence so she wouldn't attempt to force her company on him any longer.

She slammed the door to the stairs with a little more force than was strictly necessary and Puck flinched. Quinn watched her go and when she looked back at Puck, she could see that hers wasn't the only gaze to have followed Rachel's discouraged footsteps.

"Ow!" Puck rubbed the back of his head and glared at Quinn who was staring back at him with a malicious glint to her eyes as she clenched her hand into a fist and relished the sting of her palm from where it had connected with his skull.

"You're an asshole," she stated with a healthy dose of disgust.

"So they say," he muttered sulkily.

"She didn't," Quinn pointed in the direction Rachel had just gone. "Rachel has never thought anything but the best of you, and from the sounds of it, you've done everything you can this week to prove her wrong."

"Shut it, Quinn," he wasn't in the mood for a lecture. "You don't even know."

She crossed her arms and tossed her head, her blonde ponytail bouncing as she tapped her foot. "Oh I don't?" she mocked, "Well, I know you've said barely five words to her all week. I know you've made a point to keep as much distance between you two as possible and when you are around, all you do is sit back and let Rebecca act like the little bitch we both know she can be."

Puck was shocked at Quinn's name calling. She was usually so prim and proper; he couldn't actually recall her referring to anyone as a bitch since Santana had run against Quinn for the title of prom queen senior year. "She's not that bad."

Quinn snorted and arched her eyebrow, "Yes she is. She used to make me cry on a daily basis when I was pregnant and living at your house. And she was 8 years old then. She's older now, and is no doubt able to arm herself with more hurtful ammunition. She wouldn't say, but I can only imagine what Rebecca has been saying to Rachel to make her come crying to me."

His head shot up, "Rachel was crying?"

"Does she look happy to you?" Quinn asked pointedly. "She just left a very volatile, emotionally draining relationship, Puck. And as if that isn't hard enough, you've made her feel like the worst person in the world because she expressed her concern about the two of you sleeping together. Can you blame her for being cautious and not wanting to jump into something that neither of you are really prepared for?"

She stared him down as he opened his mouth to say something and she shook her head slightly in warning. Whatever bullshit excuse he had to convince himself he was in the right and Rachel was wrong, Quinn didn't want to hear.

"Her life has literally been uprooted in the space of a week. Rachel has so much to work through and you were supposed to be the easiest part of the equation because you promised her that she was making the right decision in having the baby, and you swore that she could count on you to support her-"

"I know, Quinn," he growled out, slamming his fist onto the desk. "I just…fuck!" he ran his hand through his hair in agitation. "I want to be there for her, _shit_. I don't want to be another person in her life making her cry but-" He broke off with another muffled curse and passed his hand over his face. He looked up at her, his hazel eyes troubled. "She's having my baby, Q. I just want it to be different this time." It was too hard to hold her gaze and he dropped his eyes to his hands. "I can't stop myself from wanting to be with her," he confessed quietly, "I want us to do this right."

Quinn dug her fingernails into her palm and braced herself against an onslaught of memories so strong, they never failed to steal the breath from her lungs. "It_is_ different for you this time." She managed to whisper, the sound cutting through the strained silence. "You and Rachel aren't a couple of 16 year old kids who don't have anything to offer a baby or each other," His head shot up at the mention of Beth and she smiled sadly at him as they both took a moment to remember the beautiful little girl they'd given away. "Rachel wants you to be a family. She's not saying that she doesn't want to be with you too, she's saying now is not the right time. And regardless of whether you two end up together or not, she's always going to push be apart of your life and she's always going to want you in hers. She's voluntarily binding herself to you with this baby, she's not going anywhere."

He didn't look convinced.

She sighed, and touched his shoulder. "Puck, she's not ready. If you want a real chance at a relationship with her, you can't rush into it. But that doesn't mean that you and Rachel aren't going to do right by your baby in the meantime."

Puck rubbed his temple wearily, "Yeah, ok. I hear what you're saying." He conceded. "I suppose it was only natural for her to be freaked out about sharing a room with me when we had agreed to take things slow. I can see how that would be sending mixed signals and I guess I overreacted."

"You think?" Quinn deadpanned. She smiled at his scowl and turned, picking up her purse and heading towards the door. "I'm going to take Rachel out to dinner and a movie tonight, Lord knows she needs a break. And if you're going out, I don't want her to have to sit at home with your sister if she doesn't have to. That's just cruel."

She paused by the door and looked at him again, her expression once again serious. "Puck, about Rebecca-"

"I'll talk to Becca," he promised, leaning back in his chair.

"Good. You're doing a great job with her you know, but it's clear for whatever reason, she's got a chip on her shoulder when it comes to Rachel and she needs to know it's not ok to treat the mother of your child like that." She let that sink in and then waggled her fingers at him as she left. "Enjoy your Friday,"

"Yeah," he muttered, looking longingly towards the trash can Rachel had dumped his sandwich in. Not a chance.

***/***

Puck woke up suddenly the next morning and as he blearily rubbed the sleep from his eyes he could make out the swish of long brown hair and long, bare legs under a t-shirt that he vaguely recognized as one of his, before he realized it was Rachel's jerky departure from the bed that had interrupted his slumber. He glanced at the alarm clock as he rolled over onto his side and groaned. He'd drunk just enough the night before to make his head pound unforgivingly this morning, and he wasn't even_nearly_ ready to be awake right now. He bunched the pillow under his head and tried vainly to get comfortable again, hoping to get another few, uninterrupted hours of shut eye.

Having risen early every day that week to avoid any awkward conversation with Rachel, this was his first opportunity to sleep in and he intended to stretch it out as long as possible. He had Lenny open the garage for him that morning with the intention of smoothing things over with Rachel, but that was before he switched from beer to spirits the night before. He needed sleep; he hadn't drunk that much since college. Barely 30 seconds later though, he heard muffled voices getting progressively louder, hurried footsteps and the slamming of the bathroom door. Loud banging commenced immediately as Rachel slapped her palm against the wood and her shrill voice yelled at Becca to open the door and let her in.

Puck groaned, the pounding in his head pulsing in time with the knocking of Rachel's knuckles on the wood. He lay there for another minute until Becca's obnoxious off key singing drowned out the noise of Rachel's calls and frayed his last nerve. He pushed back the covers with a growl and got out of bed, pulling a t-shirt on over his head as he stalked out into the hall.

"Rachel!" he bit out more harshly than he intended as he reached her side and grasped her elbow. "It's fucking 7am, what's with all the fucking noise?"

She tipped her head to look up at him and he was momentarily thrown by the panic in her wide brown eyes. "I need to use the bathroom, Noah." she said with an edge of desperation. "I was almost here when Becca came running from her bedroom and locked me out."

He rolled his eyes, the movement doing nothing to help his hangover. These two women were driving him insane.

"Well fucking take a chill pill and wait 2 minutes," he told her as he rapped loudly on the door himself. "Bec, hurry the fuck up. Don't be in there all day; some of us need to piss."

Feeling like his mission here was complete, he turned on his heel and stumbled back towards the bedroom. "I'm going back to bed,"

Rachel meanwhile drew in a sharp intake of breath that was so deep, Puck heard it and turned back towards her. Her entire body seemed to convulse and he was instantly more alert, reaching a hand out towards her in concern as she moaned an "Oh no," and brushed past him, hurrying towards the kitchen. He tried to grab for her as she passed but she shook him off, leaving him no choice but to jog after her.

"Rach, what-"

His question was answered when Rachel made it to the sink and seemed to double over, the sound of her emptying the contents of her stomach echoed off the stainless steel and made him silently gag. Privately thanking his iron gut for it's immunity to the sound (and stench) of her retching, he went to stand behind her and quickly gathered her hair out of the way, holding it in one fist as he rubbed slow, soothing circles over her back. He murmured words of comfort as she heaved and braced herself with her hands on the edge of the counter, gasping and sniffling between each fresh wave of nausea.

After a few minutes, when it seemed like she had thrown up everything she'd eaten for the entire week, her sniffling turned to soft crying and her shoulders shook underneath his hands.

"Babe, it's ok," he said quietly, still rubbing her back as he leaned over and peered into her face. Her expression was one that made his heart hurt. She was so pale, though there were splashes of red on her cheeks that he suspected were from the embarrassment of having him see her in this position more than anything else. Her lips were downcast and her eyes were staring straight into the sink as she struggled to regulate her breathing and waited for her stomach to stop its recoil. He pressed a kiss to her temple and dropped his hand to curl around her hip, shifting and tugging her slightly so her side was pressed against his front - the touch of her shoulder against his chest the most contact he'd had with her since the night she moved in.

"So that's morning sickness, huh?" He commented dryly as she wiped the tear tracks from her cheek.

She nodded wordlessly. "I suppose you're glad now that you had to work all those early mornings this week and missed this," she tried to joke after a minute, but the shakiness of her voice meant she couldn't quite pull off the humor.

"M'sorry," he said lowly, the guilt of feeling like he had abandoned her gnawing at him and burning a hole in his stomach that was way harsher than the shots of tequila he'd consumed the night before. He kissed her forehead again, "Should have been here."

Rachel shook her head and looked at him but when she went to say something, her eyes clenched shut and she grimaced. The next thing he knew she was bent back over the sink as another unexpected round hit.

"That's the grossest thing I've ever seen," a disgusted voice said from the doorway. Puck glanced over his shoulder and fixed Becca with a scowl.

"Not helping Bec," he said from between clenched teeth.

She shrugged, adjusting her towel as she stared back defiantly. "Dude, I prepare my food there. That's fucking disgusting; way to put me off my breakfast."

He looked down to see fresh tears rolling down Rachel's cheeks as she kept her head bowed and wiped delicately at her mouth, silently shamed. "I'm sorry," she apologized softly. "I'll make sure I clean up-"

"Shut up," he said forcefully, angry that she felt the need to apologize for anything when he knew (even without Quinn going out of her way to reprimand him for it) that he had acted like the biggest kind of asshole that week, giving Becca free reign to make it as difficult as possible for her to adjust to her new living situation. Seeing the attitude Becca gave Rachel now, when Rachel was merely suffering the side effects of carrying his child, was like watching a bully kick a defenseless puppy and he wasn't going to stand for it. "You don't apologize for this shit," he told Rachel tightly, before unleashing the full extent of his frustration in the glare he sent his sister. "She's fucking pregnant Bec; it's not like she stole from my fucking liquor cabinet, came home completely trashed and puked in the fucking laundry hamper..." he looked pointedly at her.

Becca looked suitably affronted, "That was one time! And excuse me, but-"

Puck cut her off, "No I won't excuse you. You're being a bitch and there's no need for it."

She stared mutinously at him and when she opened her mouth – no doubt to deliver some scathing retort - he shook his head, "Don't start with me, Rebecca." he warned in an authoritative tone he rarely used with her. It made her pause in consideration and swallow whatever comment she was about to make.

"Why are you standing there anyway? Don't you have that writing class at 8am?" he asked, irritated. When she nodded reluctantly Puck jerked his head dismissively, "Then just go, and try and keep your mouth shut for five seconds while you're at it."

Becca rolled her eyes and spun around, sending droplets of water from her wet hair flying, "Bathroom is free," she tossed sassily over her shoulder as she left. She just _had_ to get the last word in.

Puck was muttering something about teenagers being fucking exhausting as he turned his attention back to Rachel, "Ok, babe?" His tone was noticeably softer. "You done here?"

Rachel took a minute to assess how she felt before nodding slowly, "I think so,"

"Good," he pulled her back from the sink and with one arm still slung around her waist, he took a glass from the dish rack and filled it with water. He held it out to her and pushed her gently towards the bathroom. "Go brush your teeth and get back into bed." he directed with a light tap on her ass. "It's fucking early. M'not ready to be awake yet and neither should you."

His push had propelled her into movement but her steps slowed as she neared the archway that would lead her back through to the hall. "But what about-" she gestured awkwardly towards the sink and screwed up her nose.

Puck just waved her off, "I got this, babe. Don't worry." He looked up a few seconds later when he saw she hadn't moved from her spot.

"Thank you, Noah," she said seriously, her gaze flitting nervously from his when their eyes met. "I really am s-"

He held up his hand as he ran the hot water and reached under the sink for the bleach, "If you say sorry again, I'm gonna lose my shit," he told her just as seriously. "That's my kid making you feel that way, you've got nothing to be sorry - or feel embarrassed - about. Just get back into bed and I'll be there in a sec,"

He didn't see her hesitate or nod slowly, but when he glanced back up she was gone.

Rachel was fussing with the comforter when Puck entered his bedroom 10 minute later with a wooden tray in his hand. "Hey look what I found!" he exclaimed proudly as he set it down on the bedside table on his side of the bed. "S'fucking handy. Brought you something," he gestured at the cup of tea he had made and the plate of dry toast. "Thought it would help settle your stomach," he explained needlessly as he dropped onto the bed beside her and pushed back the hair from her face.

She felt her tears well up at the unexpected thoughtfulness of his actions and tried to blink them away before he saw them. She wasn't quick enough to mask her emotion though as he cupped her cheek and leaned forward. "You good? Teeth brushed, no nasty puke taste?" He wanted to know with a small grin. When she nodded shyly he closed the distance and brushed his lips over hers.

He kissed the tip of her nose as he pulled back, and picked up the cup of tea and handed it to her.

"I spoke to Becca before she left," he told her as he watched her take a sip. "She's going to take her showers at night so the bathrooms clear in the morning."

Rachel looked up and frowned, "She doesn't have to do that," she replied quietly, "I don't want to be an inconvenience."

"Shut up," he scoffed again and her mouth snapped closed. She narrowed her eyes at him (she was getting tired of him telling her that) and Puck smiled crookedly at her. "It's not an inconvenience, Rach. It's an _adjustmen_t. There are three of us living here now and it's going to take a little while for us to all to get used to being in each other's space. I'm sorry if she's made you feel uncomfortable."

Rachel took another sip of her tea, "She hates me," she said pathetically, turning miserable brown eyes on him.

"She's 17, she hates everyone," he retorted with another grin as he joked, "what makes you think you're so special?" Puck handed her the toast, "You want it?"

She hesitated, "Yes," she answered unconvincingly. Her slender fingers picked up the first piece and she took a small bite.

"You don't have to eat it," he told her with a chuckle as she visibly swallowed with a great deal of effort.

"No, I want it," she claimed, "I just-"

"What?" he prompted, "You want some jelly or something? Peanut butter maybe?"

"Actually Noah," she replied slowly, looking up at him from beneath lowered lashes. "Do you mind just toasting it for longer? In fact, can you burn it?"

He made a face of bewilderment, "What now?"

She blushed, "I like my toast burnt," she replied, "with a smear of mayonnaise." The look of revolt on his face deepened and she pushed ineffectively at his chest. "Don't look at me that way!" she cried with a self conscious smile. "It seems my cravings have already started, and your spawn seems to have inherited your strange eating habits."

His eyebrow arched and he snorted as he got to his feet and reached for the plate of toast. "Not me, babe. I think it's that Vegan shit you like that's screwing up our kid." he sighed and padded out of the room barefoot, still in his boxers and t-shirt. "Burnt toast and mayo coming up."

"With sliced tomato!" she called after him, smiling softly at his retreating form, the awkwardness of the last few days forgotten.

Puck shook his head to himself as he headed towards the kitchen, resigned to the fact that he wouldn't be getting back to sleep anytime soon. It was worth it though - the depravation of slumber - to know that he was doing something, as small and insignificant as it was, to take care of Rachel and their baby.

Burnt toast and mayonnaise though? The chick was whack. This pregnancy was going to be a trip.

***/***

After that morning, Rachel seemed to adjust to life in Brooklyn faster than any of them would have anticipated – but no one was more surprised at the ease of her transition than Puck. She bounced into the office at the garage at the same time every day, positively giddy with excitement over whatever she'd happen to stumble upon when she was out 'exploring' the neighborhood.

Day one she found (in Rachel speak) 'a little slice of Italian heaven' which roughly translated to a hole in the wall bakery two streets over that made these kick ass little donuts that she brought back and made him eat in front of her _right__that__very__instant_, when he was trying to book some little old lady's car in for a service. She watched him chow down half a dozen of the bite sized doughy-custardy things, and wasn't satisfied until he had powdered sugar all over his shirt, exclaiming that yes, the donuts were the fucking shit. The customer who had been watching the exchange with undisguised amusement had smiled indulgently as Rachel apologized for monopolizing Puck's time and flounced through the work shop to offer the rest of the donuts to the three other dudes that made up his grease monkey crew – both of whom legit fucking _adored_ her, donuts or no donuts.

Day five was the discovery of an organic produce store that stocked a huge range of vegan-friendly alternatives – all of which apparently she intended to eat in one go judging by the sheer number of bags she lugged home that afternoon. He'd been on the phone with a supplier when he saw her walking down the street, juggling a load of paper grocery bags that probably weighed more than she did. He had barked out to Lenny to go and help her before she dropped them all and his face was a mask of disapproval when she followed his employee in a few minutes later, a sheepish expression on her face and her hands extended as she showed him she wasn't carrying anything at all – she knew he hated it when she picked up anything heavier than a loaf of bread. "Chilli tofu, Noah!" was the only excuse she gave him as she followed Lenny up the stairs to the apartment.

She kept herself busy by meeting up with Quinn for coffee seemingly every other day, attended the soccer games that Puck and Finn coached as their team approached playoffs (always decked out in one of the team jerseys she'd stolen from him and a baseball cap that she pulled low over her eyes and that he thought she looked adorable in), and sat her feet in his lap at night as she argued with him over remote control privileges when he was watching ESPN and she wanted to watch her vampire show (she almost always won).

They settled into an easy routine - she did most of the cleaning, picking up after both Becca and Puck (who she quickly discovered were both slobs) while he did all the cooking, since she couldn't manage to boil water without burning it. It was nice, for lack of a better phrase, the way Rachel always sat and watched him as he moved around the kitchen preparing their dinner, chatting to him about her job prospects and asking him probing questions about the guys he employed in the garage, the inner workings of his business and the songs he fucked around writing when he had some down time and thought she wasn't paying attention.

Rachel started commuting into the city a couple of times a week to see Kurt and Brad and meet with a vocal coach – a coach that she had always insisted throughout the years that she didn't need, but at this juncture in her career felt she should have – and was so seemingly content at the moment that he was wholly unprepared for the fallout when she came home early from the city on the day of the open calls, with puffy eyes and tearstained cheeks, telling him she hadn't received a call back.

He knew right away that their bubble of domestic bliss had popped and had all gone to shit; the air of contentment she had been radiating faded as she saw her star plummet and her future success crumple around her. Rachel spent three days crying on the couch while all he could do was stand around, making her the herbal tea she liked and offering lame ass comments about the casting agents being fucking crooked and obviously tone deaf if they thought anyone of the Broadway-wannabes that had made it through to the second round of auditions could outsing her.

It didn't matter what he said though, she was inconsolable. Prior to her separation from Michael she had been privately assured by both the producer and the director that she had Elphaba in the bag. Their rejection was the first in what would become a long line of "you just don't have the right look," or "your rendition is impressive, but we're going in a different direction" as casting agent after casting agent selected someone she considered vocally sub par to herself, for whatever role she had been trying out for. It wasn't until one particularly candid director pulled her aside and spoke the words she had been dreading, that she got confirmation in her mind that she just couldn't make it on Broadway without Michael's influence.

"Rachel, sweetie." Jacque had said. "You're good, you know that. But we can't honestly consider you as a viable contender for this part, when Michael has secured us 60% of the total production funds. Now I don't pretend to know what went on with you two, but really, giving you the lead in this play given the circumstances around your separation just wouldn't be right."

When Puck had heard what had gone down – and after he had to be physically restrained from going down there and telling the stuck up director exactly what had gone down between Michael and Rachel to prompt her finally leaving him, but only _after_ he found the Douchebag and punched him in the fucking head - he expected another 3 day crying episode similar to the post _Wicked_ fiasco, and stocked up on dairy-free soy ice cream for the inevitable meltdown that to his surprise, never came.

Instead, she doubled her vocal lessons, circled every open casting call advertised in red pen with fanatical determination, and set off for Manhattan every morning at 8am, returning late – if at all. She stayed over with Brad and Kurt with increasing regularity and when she was home, she was either out on the terrace bundled up in his sweatshirts running through vocal arrangements or pacing the living area reciting monologue after monologue as she systematically went through everything in her repertoire so she could select the best pieces to try out with and hopefully blow everyone away.

He couldn't remember the last time they sat down and discussed anything that wasn't directly related to the theatre or her audition preparations. She hadn't kissed him in what seemed like forever, and she seemed determined to avoid any talk of her pregnancy or the baby. If it wasn't for the fact she started each morning praying to the porcelain gods and continually grossed him out with her penchant for charred mayonnaise and tomato sandwiches, he could be forgiven for forgetting about the fact she was carrying his kid at all.

Her crazy determination was setting them all on edge and they quickly found that if things had been tense beforehand with Rachel and Becca, by early October the war that had been raging between them looked ready to start collecting casualties. Of course he was smack in the middle of it as both girls ran to him whenever one perceived the other to be 'disagreeable and argumentative' as Rachel relayed or 'fucking psycho and straddling the border of Crazytown' as Becca put it. One night, as he sat on the couch, trying (failing) to watch TV in peace, he listened to Becca rant for half an hour about Rachel's singing disrupting her concentration as she prepared for an upcoming test and he had to do the one thing that he had been avoiding up until this point – he had to step in.

He tried to be as diplomatic as possible and ask Rachel (nicely) if she wouldn't mind keeping her runs at a level that would allow people to actually think, but evidently she took his request to heart and it became the catalyst that would break their already strained relationship.

"I have to practice, Noah," she had replied stiffly, the warmth in her brown eyes that up until that point, had always been directed at him, cooling. "My voice is my instrument and I have to keep it conditioned - which means four hours of vocal scales a day. I have two call backs this week; granted they are for small off-off Broadway productions, but I can't afford not to put in the preparation."

He had scratched the back of his head awkwardly, "Sure, I get that, it's just - can't you practice during the day when Bec's at school? She'd gotta study, you know? And she can't concentrate when you're pacing the apartment at all hours singing fucking show tunes."

"Yeah!" Becca interjected from the kitchen where she'd been throwing together a snack, "Some of us want to make the most out of our education so we can fucking grow up and you know, get a real job," Rachel's inability to land a role had been a topic they had been tip toeing around for weeks and Puck silently groaned at his sisters ability to rub salt in an already gaping wound.

The hurt look that flashed across Rachel's face had made his gut sink and he tried vainly to smooth things over while still making his point. "Look Rach, I don't want to discourage you in any way, but truthfully I'm really concerned about Becca at the moment. She's not the best student you know? I gotta make sure she buckles down and if she's actually making the effort to study, I don't want anything disrupting her."

"The girl 'studies' with the aid of her headphones and Metallica blasting at a decibel level that is sure to cause her permanent ear damage but yes, I suppose it is _my_singing that distracts her," Rachel retorted stiffly, reaching for her jacket and snatching up her purse.

Puck automatically reached out, clasping his hand over her elbow to stop her. He should have gone with his instincts and started apologizing the moment he had seen her face fall, because his "where do you think you're going?" had her bristling and wrenching her arm out of his grip. "Manhattan," she replied shortly.

"Rach, c'mon. It's late-"

"It's 6pm." she snapped back with a little of the old Rachel Berry shining through as she stared him down determinedly. "Maybe that's late in Brooklyn but in the _real_New York where people have _lives_, pre-dinner cocktails have only just started."

"You can't drink," he could only reply stupidly as she marched towards the door. She didn't bother answering. "Rachel, you know I hate it when you take the subway home after dark."

"Then I'll stay at Kurt's," she countered tightly, "I understand Becca's education is important, Noah, but my vocation isn't any less so, especially when all I'm trying to do is support my baby."

"Our baby," Puck corrected, his eyes narrowing. "And I told you, you don't have to worry about that shit. I'm the father, I can take care of it-"

"Yes," she interrupted, "you're doing your best to take care of the baby, and I'm thankful for that, but I'm sorry, right now you're doing a pretty poor job looking out for _my_ welfare. I need to work; I'm not going to be content sitting around here all day watching General Hospital. I just can't do it. I need _more_."

"Rachel, please-" he caught her again at the door. "Can we at least fucking talk about this some more?"

"No," she shook her head, staring down at the door knob. "I'm sorry, Noah. I need to not be here right now."

He let her go and it was three long days before he heard from her again. She had a reluctant Kurt run interference when Puck called to check in with her – and it was only the fact that they had a scheduled appointment with her obstetrician that he believed she forced herself to talk to him at all.

His attempts at conversation in the waiting room were smothered by the stilted one or two word answers she gave in response as she rearranged the post it notes in her day planner and read over the list of questions she had compiled to ask her doctor. Puck sighed and took to watching her from the corner of his eye, unhappy to see the paleness of her cheeks and the dark circles under her eyes. She looked worn out and defeated – a look he hadn't seen on her since shortly before she left her husband. He knew that the continuous rejections were wearing her down and he was sure, just from looking at her, that she had lost weight. She was pregnant and supposedly eating for two – it didn't seem possible that she was looking thinner and weaker as the weeks went on.

He was worried.

She was at the 12 week mark and thus at the end of the first trimester, so the air was thick with anticipation as they were shown to the consult room and were left waiting for the doctor to join them to confirm that so far, everything was fine. Rachel fiddled with the edge of the hospital gown and swung her feet restlessly between the stirrups as Puck crossed his arms and stood beside the exam table watching her gaze roam around the room, looking everywhere but at him directly.

He sighed and dropped his arms, prepared to say anything to end the silent treatment he'd been subjected to. "Rach, look-"

"Good afternoon Mommy, Daddy." Dr. Montgomery breezed into the room and smiled widely at them both as she pulled up a chair next to Rachel's side, her entrance effectively putting an end to whatever Puck was going to say. "How are we today?"

"We're well," Rachel answered for them both. Puck was irrationally jealous of the easy smile she graced the doctor with; he'd give his left nut to have her smile at him like that. Hell, he'd settle for more than two seconds of eye contact.

He was silent as he watched the doctor give Rachel a quick internal exam and then go on to squirt some of that gel shit on Rachel's stomach and press the buttons on the sonogram machine until a grainy picture appeared. His eyes were fixed on the slight swell of her abdomen. She had started to show and he hadn't even noticed. Granted, the cooler fall weather had meant she was always bundled up and she'd recently started wearing a loose pair of flannel pajamas to bed that were about two sizes too big for her, but he felt cheated by how apparently ignorant he was of their baby's development.

He turned his attention to the monitor. It was funny; he had romanticized this very moment, the first time he would hear his baby's heartbeat, but it was nothing like he imagined. He felt his own heart pumping double time as the loud pulsing from the monitor echoed around the room and he blinked back the moisture gathering in the corner of his eyes as he stared at the silhouette of what he assumed was his baby on the screen.

He looked down at Rachel, expecting her to be looking back at him with her face conveying the same kind of dazed wonder as he knew his own was expressing - had his hand already inching towards hers so he could clutch it and they could share the momentous occasion together - but she seemed oblivious to his existence, nodding and watching Dr. Montgomery point at something on the monitor.

He snatched his hand back and shoved them into his pockets.

Dr. Montgomery spared him a glance and smiled, "What do you think Dad? Pretty cool, huh?"

Puck nodded slowly, "It seems too fast – the heartbeat I mean. Is that normal?"

He pretended not to notice Rachel's subtle huff, _what__was__her__problem?_ He tried not to let her exasperation bother him, Quinn had told him that her hormones were likely to make her moody and irritable as the weeks progressed.

"The fetus' heartbeat is generally between 120-160 beats per minute at this stage of the pregnancy." The doctor assured him, "Your baby's is at 145, perfectly normal."

"So it's healthy? No problems?"

"None that I can see, everything looks fine."

He nodded and blew out a breath, allowing himself a tiny smile. "Sweet. Can you tell whether it's a boy or a girl?"

This time, Rachel's annoyance was demonstrable. "I'm only 12 weeks along Noah, the baby doesn't weigh more than a slice of cheese right now."

"Oh,"

_Was__he__supposed__to__know__that?_His brow furrowed. From Rachel's tone, and the look on her face, apparently.

"Actually Noah, the sex organs have almost fully developed but we won't be able to determine for certain the gender until around 26 weeks." Dr. Montgomery informed him kindly, seemingly unfazed by the hostility emanating from Rachel. She probably saw a lot of that in her line of work, Puck figured, pregnant chicks wanting to strangle their significant _whatevers_.

"Have you decided to find out the sex, then, when the time comes?"

"Yes," Puck replied just as Rachel answered, "No."

Their gazes clashed.

"No?" He questioned in surprise. Sure they hadn't discussed it, but Rachel was crazy organized – he just assumed she'd want to know so they could pick out things for the nursery and shop for outfits and blankets all that other shit the baby was going to need.

Rachel looked back at the monitor without answering and her dismissal of his question had his jaw clenching. The doctor helped her down from the table as Puck stewed silently, and took her over to the corner to check her weight gain and question her generally about how she was feeling.

When she announced Rachel had gained 4 pounds since her last visit, he had to butt in to voice his disbelief, "Are you sure that thing's accurate?" Puck asked sceptically. "I mean, she looks pretty run down, I'm sure she's actually lost weight. She eats like a sparrow and she's running all over Manhattan auditioning and stuff," he was purposely not looking at Rachel's direction, certain he'd see her glowering at him.

He wasn't wrong.

"And all that Vegan shit she eats, what's that gonna do to the baby? I mean, its not gonna come out with webbed feet or anything, right?"

Dr. Montgomery laughed and it was only then that he finally glanced at Rachel and the look in her eyes was anything but amused. He held her gaze unwaveringly, his own eyebrow arching challengingly as he stood by his concerns. Screw her if she thought he was going to sit there silently when he had questions he was burning to get the answers to, and he felt with the way she'd been acting lately, he couldn't trust her to be honest with him if she was doing anything that wasn't strictly the best thing for her and the baby.

"A Vegan diet is fine," the doctor assured him. "Rachel just needs to make sure that she's getting enough fibre and protein."

"Well, what does she need to eat to get that?" He wanted to know.

"I know what I need to eat," the woman in question interjected impatiently. "Can we move on?"

He ignored her interruption, intent on getting some answers while he had the chance. "And its ok for her to spend all that time on the elliptical machine?" he pressed doubtfully. He had hated that thing from the second it had been delivered and not just because it was taking up half of his small study. Her alarm went off at 6:30 every morning and the soft whirl of the machine made it so he couldn't fall back to sleep after she left the bed. She would stumble from the study half an hour later, red faced and sweaty, heading for the bathroom where she would expel the contents of her stomach and then shower before slipping back into bed just as he left it. It was a routine that left him unsettled.

"Exercise in moderation is good. Obviously Rachel won't be nearly as active as the pregnancy progresses, but while she'd feeling up to it, it won't hurt."

"Define moderation-"

"Noah!" Rachel's glare was fierce; she didn't take to kindly to the insinuation that she was doing anything that risked the welfare of their baby. "I've been over this with Dr Montgomery before at my first appointment. Why don't you leave the questions to me, alright? I actually have valid queries I'd like answered before our time is up."

He blinked at the verbal smack down and sat back, keeping his mouth shut as she opened her planner and started systematically questioning the doctor about what she could expect over the coming weeks. His knee bounced impatiently as he stared at the clock and the remaining 10 minutes of their appointment counted down and when Dr Montgomery stood and shook their hands, he was the first one out of the door.

When they reached the sidewalk outside the clinic, Rachel stared at the sonogram picture in her hands and the pinched expression she'd be wearing faded, to be replaced by one of undiluted joy as she traced the baby's outline with her finger. "Noah," she looked up with a smile only to see him striding across the parking lot to where he'd parked his truck.

"Noah!" She hurried to catch up.

She stood next to him as he unlocked the passenger door with jerky movements, wrenching it open and striding around the hood without helping her in like he usually would. Rachel studied his profile as she belted her seatbelt, and bit her lip when she noticed the rigid set to his shoulders and the white knuckled grip he had on the steering wheel.

"So, now that I'm through the first trimester, we should tell our parents, don't you think?" She'd put off making the phone call to her fathers, wanting them to enjoy their cruise for as long as possible before she intruded on their break with news of her divorce and her pregnancy. Puck had been just as reluctant to tell his own mother of their circumstance. Yes she would be happy to welcome a grandchild into the world – a 100% Jewish grandchild – but he didn't relish the task of telling her who he had knocked up, not when his mother had always had a soft spot for that 'sweet little Jewish girl with the voice of an angel' and had followed her Broadway career with an attention that bordered on obsessive.

Mrs Puckerman knew that Rachel was married and he could only imagine the earful he'd get when his mother learned he had knocked her up while she still had another man's ring on her finger. She's taken her rings off of course, _now_, but still, she was legally a Weitzmann - at least until the divorce papers were finalized.

When he failed to respond, Rachel repeated the question and he just grunted at her as he pulled out of the parking lot and navigated the mid afternoon traffic.

"Is that a yes?" she asked, her eyes not leaving his face. Frankly, she expected him to be a little more enthusiastic following their appointment. This was the first time he'd accompanied her and she expected him to be brimming over with happiness, just as she had been when they exited the building and she had looked down to see the proof of what they had made together in her hands as she stared at the sonogram picture.

The exchange in the doctor's office was forgotten as she wondered why he was practically mute as they drove across the bridge back to Brooklyn. She honestly couldn't remember what she'd said to him or recall the wounded expression he had levelled her when she had deemed his concerns ridiculous. The way he was acting was a mystery to her and it kept her silent until they pulled into the garage and he shut off the engine.

"I'm going back to work," he told her without looking at her. "We're open late tonight so you'll have to fix yourself dinner." He didn't wait for a response as he got out of the vehicle, and didn't spare her a glance as he walked away. She sat in the truck just staring down at the picture and DVD in her lap until Steve popped out to ask if she was ok.

She made a non-committal sound and tried to smile at the gorilla-like man, before sliding out of her seat and walking slowly through the garage towards the apartment stairs. Puck was nowhere to be found and she climbed the steps with a heavy heart. Once again there was a giant gulf between them and she was at a loss as to how they could bridge the emotional distance.

Rachel didn't know how long they could go on like this with the constant silences and tension thickening the air around them; she wondered who would be the first to break.


	12. Making up and Making Out

_**A/N: I have a mini rant at the end of this chapter. I'd like 99.9% of the readers who have story alerted this fic (and who I love, love) to ignore it. But to the other 0.1% - you know who you are – read and reflect. Thanks.**_

The fifth anniversary of the day Puck opened Puckerman's Tire & Auto fell on the first second Saturday in October, and, like every year, he invited all of his employees and their families plus Finn and Quinn and their clan, to a nearby park for a barbeque lunch and an assortment of games to commemorate the success of the business, and express his appreciation for the hard work his team put in. It was a gathering he always looked forward to, but this year, with the stress of the baby and the strained relationship between him and Rachel, Puck was anything but enthusiastic. He was glowering as he backed the truck as close as he could to the picnic area so he could unload the coolers and have the stereo provide some mellow tunes they could all listen and chill to.

Rachel was seated across the bench seat, a large bowl of pasta salad in her lap as she chatted on her cell phone to Quinn. "Alright, well we're here now so we'll see you in a few minutes."

Almost as soon as he had put the truck in park, Rachel's door was opened and a grinning blonde poked his head inside the cab, "Hey Rach! Wow, you look great!" Puck's eyes narrowed as Rachel smiled tentatively at Josh, the 19 year old apprentice he'd hired a few weeks before on a part time basis. The kid was a friend of Becca's from one of the numerous art classes she attended in the evenings, who apparently had an obsession with anything and everything under the hood of a vehicle.

It wasn't like he needed another set of hands around the garage but Becca had whined, pleaded and then finally begged until he was so sick of her pouting that he finally relented and agreed to give the kid a chance. He seemed smart enough and less of a douche than the guys Becca was usually interested in (and yes he knew she was interested since she'd dumped the other punk as soon as she knew Josh would be working in the garage every Monday, Wednesday and Friday). She spent a lot of time wandering up and down the stairs to the apartment being uncharacteristically sweet on the days the new hire was there, offering refreshments and bringing down random snacks that she always waved under Josh's nose before she passed them around to the rest of them.

His only comfort was that Josh seemed oblivious to Becca's attention, and to her chagrin, treated her like a little sister. His immunity to her advances was one of the things Puck liked best, and in fact became the only thing he liked about him at all when it became clear that Josh had developed a little crush of his own – on Rachel.

"Hey thanks for those Broadway album recordings you recommended." Josh gushed, leaning against the door frame. "I hope we can sit down and discuss them today."

Puck grunted in annoyance beside her and Rachel smiled weakly at Josh whose eyes had flickered over to his boss in surprise. She tried not to wince as Puck got out of the truck and slammed the door behind him. "We'll talk after lunch ok?" Rachel said to Josh quietly, holding out the bowl of pasta salad. "Can you take this over to the picnic tables for me? It looks as though Steve and Lenny have already claimed a good spot for our group. I need to help Noah with the rest of the things."

Josh nodded eagerly and took the bowl from her, lingering to help her down from the truck before heading off in the direction on the grills. Rachel met Puck at the rear of the vehicle, standing off to the side as he dropped the tailgate with a loud clatter.

"Noah, is everything alright?" she asked tentatively, touching his arm as he put his foot on the tow bar ready to hoist himself into the back.

"Peachy," he spat moodily, shrugging her off.

"Noah, stop." She grabbed for his arm again and held it tight, willing him to look at her. "You're not ok. Something's wrong – it's been this way all week. You have to talk to me."

He paused for a second, just glaring into space before dragging his gaze up to meet hers. "I guess I don't see the point." He replied tightly. "It's pretty fucking clear to me that you don't want to hear anything I have to say." Puck shrugged her off again and lifted himself onto the tailgate, pulling the coolers to the edge so they could be easily lifted and carried to the picnic area.

"What do you mean by that?" She asked finally when she was done gaping at him in confusion.

"Nothing," he muttered. He glanced over her head and his mouth thinned into a straight line. "You want to be careful with Josh, Rachel. He's 19, you shouldn't encourage him."

"Wh-" Rachel looked over her shoulder and saw Josh watching the two of them with acute interest. When he noticed her looking, he grinned and waved. She spun back around and looked up at Puck. "Exactly," she nodded seriously. "Josh is 19, he's just a teenager. You can't honestly be insinuating that you think I'm leading him on or some other nonsense. He's interested in the theatre that's all; we talk sometimes. That's not a crime."

"He's not interested in theatre, Rachel," he contradicted in a tone that implied he thought she was two sandwiches short of a picnic. "He's interested in _you_."

She blushed and shook her head, "You're wrong. We share a common interest, that's all. Josh knows I'm pregnant, he knows that you and I are-" she stumbled to a stop, unable to easily identify what exactly they were, and Puck grimaced. "Something," she settled on awkwardly. "he's aware we're involved."

He just stared at her broodingly, 'Yeah," he muttered finally, turning away "we're _something_."

Before she could open her mouth and demand he tell her exactly what his problem was, she heard her name being shouted and she looked up to see Quinn walking towards them with a large picnic hamper, with Finn and their three children in tow.

"Hi," Quinn greeted cheerfully, seemingly oblivious to Rachel and Puck's pained expressions. "Where should I unpack this?"

Puck wordlessly indicated the grassy patch next to the picnic tables and Finn reached out and grabbed the basket from his wife. He exchanged a look with Quinn who had only just noticed the tension between their two friends and he smiled at Rachel. "Hey Rach, do you want to help me unpack this?" He gestured at the basket. "Quinn has to take Charlotte to the bathroom; she had two juice boxes on the 10 minute drive here."

Rachel smiled distractedly and nodded. After glancing once more at Puck who was determinedly avoiding her eyes again, she sighed quietly and followed Finn over to the picnic area. They unloaded the picnic basket in relative silence and spread out the blankets, both watching from the corner of their eyes as Puck and a few of the guys from the garage made trips back and forth between the truck and the grills, unloaded the coolers packed with meat, salads and sodas.

"So," Finn ventured hesitantly, "You and Puck seemed to be having a bit of an argument when we arrived. Are things ok with you two?"

Rachel bit her lip and glanced over towards the man in question. "Not really," she admitted unhappily, relieved to be able to vent her concerns. "It's like we're back to how we were that week when I first moved in. He doesn't come to bed until after I'm asleep and he's already gone down to the garage by the time I wake up. He's even taken to eating dinner in front of the tv –which is a habit he knows I can't stand – just so he doesn't have to talk to me." her eyes gazed up at him imploringly, "I don't know why he's so upset with me."

Finn was sympathetic but she couldn't believe that Rachel was really that oblivious. "You're kidding, right?" he interrupted, fixing her with an incredulous look. "You really don't know why Puck is acting this way?"

Rachel shook her head helplessly and looked so genuinely perplexed that Finn almost rolled his eyes at her ignorance. He liked Rachel, loved her even, in a way, but sometimes she was so self absorbed she couldn't see straight.

"I know that he was upset with me for leaving like I did last week to stay with Kurt," she said slowly, trying to make sense of it all. "But I thought he understood that it just got too much. I needed a break from Rebecca; the girl is exhausting. I know for a fact that she mixes 2% cows milk in with my soy, just because she knows I have a slight case of lactose intolerance and she finds it amusing, and has a multitude of oral sex jokes at the ready, when I gag from the taste."

Finn frowned. Quinn had told him that Becca had been giving Rachel a hard time, but he just couldn't picture it. He'd known the teenager since she was in diapers and sure, she had adopted a few of Puck's more obnoxious traits, but she'd always been so sweet to him.

"I'm not talking about that Rach, I'm talking about your doctor's appointment last week."

Her brow furrowed and she looked even more confused than before - if that was even possible.

"You were kind of a bitch," Finn explained as gently as he could.

"Excuse me?" She gaped at his forwardness.

"You basically told him to stand there and shut up," Finn expanded, shoving his hands in his pockets. "From what he told me, all he was doing was asking some questions and trying to get a bit of reassurance from your doctor, and you told him he was wasting everyone's time and dismissed his very real concerns like they were nothing."

"The questions _were_ unwarranted," Rachel said defensively, squirming under Finn's steady gaze. "I had told Noah everything was fine with the pregnancy, yet he seemed determined to interrogate Dr. Montgomery about my diet and my exercise regime, as if he knew better than someone who had spent 8 years at Medical School and is named as one of the top 5 obstetricians in the country!"

Finn shook his head, "That's not what he was doing at all. He was just trying to wrap his head around some things that were bothering him and you cut him off like you didn't even care that he might be worried about you and the baby."

Rachel looked up at him and was quiet for a moment. "I do care," she corrected simply. "But I would have thought that if Noah had any concerns, he would have just asked me directly instead of monopolizing the short window of time we had with Dr. Montgomery. I could have told him that I'd already discussed with my doctor the amount of exercise that was safe for me to do at this stage in my pregnancy and that I'd read up what other food items I needed to incorporate into my diet to ensure the baby is well nourished if I chose to remain on a predominantly Vegan-based meal plan."

"Ok," Finn conceded, reaching out to touch her arm when her voice became shrill; he didn't want her getting upset. "He could have asked you - but you could have volunteered that information yourself. Rach, you have to see that Puck just doesn't feel like he's apart of this anymore. You've been so crazy busy running around Manhattan trying to find work that you haven't sat and talked about the baby or the future at all. He says it feels like its sophomore year with Quinn all over again - like the woman that's having his baby doesn't think he's important enough to make decisions or share any information with."

"Oh Finn, I think nothing of the sort!" Her face was pained and Finn patted her shoulder reassuringly.

"I know Rach, I'm just telling you how Puck sees it. What you have to realize is that a woman's pregnancy is hard on the man too. As I've said before, we feel kind of irrelevant until the baby is actually born. All we can do is sit around and read the baby books and run to the store for ice cream while you do all the hard work. Our bodies don't change, we don't get how it feels to be responsible for that life inside of you - all we have is second-hand knowledge until the kid pops out. We only feel connected to the baby at this stage through _you_ and at the moment, Puck doesn't feel like you want anything to do with him, so of course he feels disconnected from the baby...and you know how happy he was when you told him you wanted to keep it right?"

Rachel nodded.

"Well he's not that excited anymore. He wanted it to be different this time around. He wanted to be involved in everything right from the start; he's never going to get these missed weeks back and I'm sorry Rach, because I know you're dealing with a lot, but you're not being fair to him."

Rachel looked towards Puck whose head was downcast as he nodded vaguely at something Steve was saying to him, a frown on his handsome face. "You're right," she admitted. "I've been so caught up in getting my life in order that I forgot that the most important aspect of my life at the moment wasn't solely mine to consider." She touched her palm to the slight swell of her abdomen that had only just subtly made an appearance.

She looked up and her gaze immediately found Puck again who was now staring at the ground and not really listening to what the group of men around him were talking about. He did look decidedly unhappy and she hated the realization that she had played a major part in making him look that way.

"I was so mad that day at the clinic. We had been fighting and I-" She shook her head and turned distressed eyes on Finn. "I was awful." She realized slowly. "Of course he had every right to ask those questions if he felt I wasn't sharing pertinent information about the pregnancy, I should have reassured him."

Rachel sighed unhappily, "What should I do?"

Finn smiled encouragingly, "Go and talk to him. He doesn't _want_ to be mad at you, he cares about you; he just wants to make sure you and the baby are healthy. I think you should make an effort to sit down and talk him, make him feel involved again. Tell him how you're feeling – reassure him that you're doing ok – and let him know what you can both expect in the next couple of months."

Rachel furrowed her eyebrow in contemplation as she decided on the best course of action. "I have started a pregnancy diary; perhaps I could share that with him?"

"That sounds like a great idea. Make him read the baby books too – I loved reading _What__To__Expect__When__You're__Expecting_ when Quinn was pregnant." He paused, chuckling in remembrance. "I made the mistake though of constantly telling her what I'd read and what exactly was happening to her body – as if she didn't already know. She threatened to cut off my junk more times than I want to think about." He rolled his eyes and Rachel smiled slightly.

"Alright," she wiped her hands on her jeans and stood. "Thank you, Finn, for your advice. I'll go over there now. I can apologize now and ask him if he'd like to talk when we get home. I hate this tension between us. If I can just eliminate that so he enjoys today, I'll sort the rest out tonight, when we're alone."

"Good plan," Finn squeezed her shoulder and went back to unpacking the picnic basket as Rachel made her way over to the grills, exchanging a pleasant smile with Lenny's wife, Carmen, who was buttoning her four year old son into his jacket.

"Hey Rach, you wanna come over to the batting cages with me and hit some balls?" Rachel was startled when Josh appeared seemingly out of nowhere and blocked her path to Noah.

"Oh, thank you for the offer Josh, but baseball's not really my thing." She looked apprehensively over his shoulder to see if Puck was paying them any attention, mindful of his warnings about her interaction with Josh being perceived as anything other than general friendliness.

"C'mon," Josh cajoled, gripping her elbow and leading her towards the batting cages. "It's easy, I'll show you."

As he walked her in the opposite direction of her target, she was still glancing longingly in Puck's direction, seeing him sipping from a bottle of beer and cleaning the grill with a metal spatula.

"I don't know that this is a good idea," Rachel said nervously as Josh inserted quarters into the slot by the gate and picked up a worn silver helmet and placed it gently on her head.

He stepped closer to her and swept her bangs back from her forehead, tucking the strands under the visor. "You'll be fine, you just have to stand right here," he tugged her into place and stood behind her, his arms coming around her to adjust her hands on the bat.

"No really," she protested uncomfortably, shifting awkwardly within the circle of his arms. It was only now that Noah had floated the idea of Josh seeing her in a potentially romantic light that she noticed that the glances he had bestowing on her held traces of interest and attraction.

She elbowed him lightly and pretended it was an accident so she could murmur an apology and put some space between them. It worked, as Josh moved and his body was no longer pressed against her back – but to her dismay, he remained close.

"Ok," his hands spanned her waist and he turned her slightly, his touch lingering longer than necessary. "The ball is going to pitch in about 15 seconds. Keep your eye on it and swing when I tell you."

"Alright," she answered unsurely, squinting as she stared ahead at the machine.

Suddenly, as she was gripping the bat and shifting apprehensively, she felt a strong arm wrap around her torso - just below the swell of her breast - tugging her away from the trajectory of the ball as it left the machine with a loud crack and came hurtling towards her.

Rachel yelped in fright and glanced around in surprise to see Josh stumbling back from the spot where he'd been standing behind her, "What the fuck is wrong with you, man?" She looked up to see Puck glaring at Josh over her head. "Are you fucking blind or just fucking stupid?" he demanded angrily, his stance widening as he crossed his arms. "She's _pregnant_. Now I don't pretend to know much about it, but I'm guessing a fucking baseball flying towards her stomach at 100 miles an hour is not the safest activity for her_or_ the baby."

Rachel swallowed heavily at the sight of his Adams apple bobbing and his jaw working furiously as the red tinge of anger darkened his complexion. "Noah, I-" She didn't know what she should apologize for first. Evidently Josh didn't know what to say either when confronted with his boss's displeasure, as he was rendered mute.

Puck pulled the helmet off her head and tossed it to the ground – all without looking at her. He glared at Josh one last time before turning abruptly and letting his hand drop from her waist. "If you can drag yourselves away, I'm putting the food on so lunch will be ready soon," he mocked scornfully as he walked away. She didn't bother looking in Josh's direction before hurrying after Puck, catching him as he reached Finn who had taken over from him at the grill.

Finn glanced at her worriedly and she just shook her head and turned her gaze to Puck. She touched his arm as she came to stand beside him, "I'm sorry," she offered quietly when she had stood there for a full minute without having him acknowledge her presence. "That was stupid of me; I wasn't thinking,_obviously_."

He shrugged, his lips pressed in a thin line. "Yeah, well," he took a sip of his beer and her shoulders slumped; armed with the insight she had received from Finn, she was looking at their relationship with new eyes and she saw the great big chasm that had developed between them that she knew was a result of her fixation on her career and the disinterest she had been displaying towards her pregnancy.

She looked down, unable to cope with the carefully blank expression on Puck's face. She needed to do something; she needed to make things right with him. Finn said that Puck didn't want to be angry at her and Rachel herself knew that he just wanted to be close to her. How could she fix this?

Her fingers grazed the bottom of her cashmere sweater and she smoothed the fabric over her stomach self consciously, as she had been doing all week since she had looked in the mirror and been surprised to see how much her abdomen had noticeably swelled seemingly overnight. She paused thoughtfully.

Rachel looked up at Noah again and tentatively reached for his hand. His fingers instinctively tightened over hers and she drew his arm around her waist until his hand rested on her hip. She waited patiently until he finally met her gaze and held it, and then she laced her fingers through his, pushing their joined hands underneath her sweater so she could rest his palm against her bare stomach. Rachel watched intently as his expression changed, smiling as his eyes widened.

Puck flexed his fingers experimentally and stroked over the slight bump that had developed - a bump he had glimpsed the week before at her doctor's appointment, but hadn't yet been granted the opportunity to touch.

She smiled again, timidly, and felt her heart skip a beat when he tugged her closer and bent his head towards hers. "When did this happen?" He murmured intimately in her ear as he pulled her sweater up a bit more so he could get a better look.

"Just this last week, really," she answered, "I thought I was imagining it at first, but it's really there."

"It's tiny," he commented, considering it. "Like you. S'fucking cute." He continued to gaze at it until he felt her shiver from the slight fall breeze. His eyes found hers and he smiled crookedly, dropping and smoothing her sweater into place. The quirk of his lips was a sign that somehow, that one gesture had made things right between them and her relief was immeasurable. His smile had her inhaling sharply and Rachel let go of his hand and turned into his body, wrapping her arms tightly around his waist as she pressed her face into his chest.

"I'm so sorry, Noah," she offered softly, feeling the tears well up in her eyes as once more her hormones betrayed her.

"What for?" he asked just as quietly, running his hands over her back. He breathed in the scent of her hair and felt his shoulders relax; he couldn't remember the last time he had held her like this. All he knew was it had been too long.

"For everything," she answered, her voice muffled as she spoke into his shirt. "For the way I've been acting, for spending too much time in Manhattan chasing something that's just never going to happen when I should be focusing on the baby, and on us. But most of all-" She looked up and curled her hands around his biceps to steady herself as she stood on her tip toes so her face was closer to his. "I'm sorry that I've pushed you away. The way I acted at the clinic was inexcusable." She wasn't just apologizing with her words as she pressed against him and implored him with her big brown eyes to forgive her.

"I'm happy to make another appointment with Dr. Montgomery so we can go and you can ask her all of those questions you had at our last visit. I don't want you to worry about me or the baby, so if you're feeling uneasy about anything, I want you to have the opportunity to have your concerns addressed."

He was silent for a minute and she worried her lip with her teeth as she waiting for him to respond. "Thanks babe," he said finally. "That means a lot."

Rachel smiled brilliantly at him and nodded before framing his face with her tiny hands and drawing him down to her lips. "I really am sorry," she whispered as she kissed him contritely.

He smirked against her lips as he kissed her back. He'd never been one to waste and opportunity and she'd given him an opening he couldn't pass on. "You should be; my feelings got hurt. You need to soothe me woman." He winked to let her know he was joking.

She giggled, despite having her heart twist at the mention of his feelings being hurt. It was a flippant comment, but it didn't make the statement any less true. "Tell me what I can do to make it better," she suggested shyly, running her fingers over the nape of his neck as her tongue darted out to wet her lip.

"Hmm," he pondered, sliding his hands into the rear pockets of her jeans and pulling her closer, taking a perverse satisfaction in seeing Josh, who was now sitting with a recently arrived Becca, glancing at him and Rachel and pouting.

He kissed her again, taking his time to reacquaint himself with her mouth. "I'll think about it." He replied between drawn-out kisses, "I'm sure we can come to some kind of agreement."

"Get a room you two, there are children present," Finn called out from the grill causing most of their assembled friends to guffaw with laughter. Rachel immediately pulled away and looked sheepishly toward them, beaming happily at Finn when he winked at her. Puck just gave his oldest friend the finger and pulled her back towards him, kissed her again, uncaring of their audience as he proceeded to put on a show that indeed had the mothers covering their children's eyes.

After lunch Puck declined the invitation to join the group in a game of touch football and tugged Rachel away from the other women who were chatting together by the picnic tables, claiming a patch of grass with a blanket set out for them under a large tree. He drew her down onto the blanket with him, settling her between his thighs, her back to his chest as he leaned back against the tree trunk. They watched the game unfold in front of them in comfortable silence and he ignored the frequent glances Josh paid them. He barely knew the kid and already Puck was regretting the decision to hire him.

He made a mental note to find out from Becca what the dude's story was. If he was going to be hanging around the garage - and by extension, Rachel - Puck wanted to know exactly what made him tick. In the meantime, he wasn't above making in abundantly clear that he and Rachel were indeed 'something'.

Rachel ran her fingertips lightly over his sinewy forearms, her eyes dropping to where his large hands splayed against her stomach. At 13 weeks she was only just beginning to show, but she could imagine them sitting just like this over the months to come, with his long fingers absently stroking her expanding midsection. Her breath hitched and unknowingly she flexed her nails into his arm; she'd come so close to messing everything up.

He felt the tension in her back as she straightened and tore his narrowed eyes away from Becca and Josh, "Ok, babe?" he murmured as she sat up.

She nodded as she watched the Hudson boys tackle their father onto the ground and relaxed her grip. "I'm just thinking," she twisted and craned her neck so she could meet his eyes. "Can we talk, Noah? Tonight?"

He took a minute to reply, searching her gaze intently. "Sure," he answered, then added cautiously, "is something wrong?"

She shook her head and smiled when he leaned forward to kiss her lightly. "No, everything's fine." And it would be. She'd make sure of it.

***/***

That night, when Rachel walked into the bedroom after brushing her teeth, Puck was standing by the bed, turning down the covers in nothing but a pair of black satin boxers. She paused in the doorway, "Hi," she said shyly, shuffling nervously. "You're coming to bed now?"

He nodded and watched her cross to the bed and climb over him to her side. "Are you tired?" she asked as she slid gracefully under the covers and watched him do the same, "because I wanted to show you something, if you have a few minutes."

"I've got nothing but time for you, Rach," Puck answered, bunching an extra pillow behind his back as he sat against the head board.

"Alright then," she turned towards the wide window ledge and retrieved her pink moleskin notebook with glittering diamantes stuck to the cover. She handed it to him and watched his brow quirk in askance as he opened it.

"It's my pregnancy diary," she explained as he glanced at the first page. 'I started it the same day I told you about the baby, even though I wasn't sure at the time I wanted to go through with the pregnancy."

Rachel held her breath and watched his face as his eyes scrolled down the page. She studied the frown lines that creased his forehead and knew that he was reading about how scared she was initially, when every single test she'd taken had showed a positive sign. His expression cleared when she wrote how relieved she was that he had been so calm when she'd gone to tell him the news, and the comfort she had derived from his assurance that they could raise the baby together.

"You don't have to read it all now," she told him self consciously, inching closer to him as she turned her body slightly towards him, hitching the covers higher on her hip. It was disconcerting to lie there in silence and watch him read the words she had written, that had poured straight from her heart and onto the page. "I just wanted to let you know that it was something I was doing. I keep it here," she indicated the ledge on her side of the bed. "You're welcome to read it at anytime."

She paused for a moment, her fingers trailing down his arm absently as she collected her thoughts. "I don't want you to feel like you're not involved in this pregnancy, Noah," Rachel told him earnestly. "Because as much as it's affecting me - _my_ life and _my_ body - it's affecting you too. I'm sorry if you felt like I was shutting you out. You have to believe me when I say that was never my intention."

He dragged his eyes from what he was reading to look at her shrewdly. "Someone said something to you," he guessed. "Quinn?"

"Finn," Rachel admitted and Puck looked surprised. "He said some things and..."

"Like what?" Puck wanted to know, clenching his fist. "Did he upset you? Because best friend or not, I'll kick his ass!"

She smiled at that and rested her chin on his shoulder for a moment, before kissing that spot and raising her head. "No, Finn just pointed out a few home truths, that's all. I'm more upset by the fact that I may have hurt _your_ feelings. I feel terrible." She gazed up at him with an apologetic look. "Do you really forgive me?"

He pretended to consider it until she frowned. He chuckled and slid his arm around her shoulders to haul her closer and kiss her deeply like he'd wanted to do for the last two weeks.

"Missed your crazy ass around here," he told her a few minutes later, nuzzling her neck as his lips moved down the column of her throat. It had been six weeks the last time they'd been together, in the stairwell of her apartment building. Six long, abstinent weeks, and he'd been counting the days woefully. He'd been jerking off in the shower every morning and sometimes, when he woke up in the middle of the night to her ass nestled enticingly against his hips, he had to get up, pad silently to the bathroom and rub one out to get some relief. Having her sleep beside him every night was not one of his more brilliant plans when sex was apparently not on the table for them.

It was torture.

"I missed you too," she breathed as his teeth nipped at her pulse point. "Noah-" She wasn't done talking and she couldn't think when his warm hands were stroking down her bare arms and his lips were ghosting over her skin like they were. "Stop,"

He groaned and reluctantly pulled away, looking expectantly (and a little impatiently) at her. "What?"

She smiled slightly at his noticeable irritation. "I just want to say that I'm done."

"Done?" he furrowed his eyebrow, "What the fuck does that mean?" A thousand scenarios ran through his mind. Done with him? Done with ignoring the fact that putting on hold any type of relationship developing between them was futile? Done with pretending that they could control themselves when she _had_ to be pining for his hot bod, and he was _always_ two seconds away from ripping her clothes off and taking her where ever she happened to be standing?

"I'm done with the auditions," she clarified, her eyes dropping to his bare chest. Absently she circled his nipple with her finger and then tugged on his nipple ring, sending a jolt of electricity straight to his dick. He was effectively distracted, and it was a struggle to focus and grasp what she was saying.

His gaze turned serious and he shook his head, "Rach-"

She smiled bravely. "No, it's ok," she hurried to assure him. "I don't know why I was so upset over the _Wicked_ audition anyway. It was an irrational disappointment really, given that we had already discussed that I would take a break from the theatre during my pregnancy. I could never have kept up with the pre-production rehearsals and then 8 shows a week for however long - I'm exhausted as it is, all the time. It was ridiculous to assume it was a feasible role for me to take on even if I had been offered it. And in any case, the rejections are quite taxing on my ego." Her smile turned derisive.

His hand covered hers and he played with her fingers. "Wasn't ridiculous," he countered quietly. "I do understand, Rachel. I told you a billion times that you're amazing, but I guess until you're back up there on stage, you're not gonna believe you can do it and be as successful as you were, before, when you were with the Douche. I just don't want you running yourself into the fucking ground as you're trying to make that happen."

"I was pushing myself too hard," she agreed. "I was so consumed by the need to prove something to myself that I forgot that the most important role I'm ever going to covert is one that I can't find on Broadway and in any case, I've landed it already." At his look of confusion she nudged him with her shoulder. "Motherhood," she explained softly.

"You were right to be concerned." Rachel continued with wide, earnest eyes. "I could see how it could appear as though I wasn't taking care of myself - or the baby. I am eating right," she wanted to assure him, "but I'll do better at not testing my limits and over exerting myself. I still want to find a job, but I was thinking, perhaps I'll look outside the theatre and do something part time, just so I'm not constantly housebound."

"If that's what you want," he agreed easily, relieved that she would no longer be making daily trips into Manhattan and come home so despondent when her auditions didn't go as well as she hoped. "S'long as you still have time to bring me those kickass little donuts. They're fucking awesome."

Rachel giggled and her head once again found the crook of his shoulder, "I think I can manage that."

Puck felt her body sag against him as she relaxed and he knew that she was close to falling asleep. He was disappointed, because his cock was twitching, reminding him exactly how long it had been since he'd gotten any action. He sighed inaudibly, knowing that Rachel was unlikely to be taking care of that (not so) little problem for him any time in the near future.

He tried vainly to push all thoughts of sex aside and picked up her pregnancy diary from where it had been sitting in his lap. He looked at the bedazzled pink cover, smiling at it in amusement. "Hey, thanks for this," he waved the journal in front of her nose before he set it on his nightstand. "I'll read through it tomorrow."

She nodded drowsily and curled up against him like a little kitten. He fumbled for the switch on the lamp and plunged the room into darkness. The glow of the numbers on the alarm clock read 9:26 and he yawned; her sleep patterns were rubbing off on him - he didn't think he'd ever been in bed this early since he was in elementary school.

"We could read the baby books together if you like? I went to Barnes and Noble and purchased a few_.__What__to__Expect__When__You're__Expecting,_ maybe?" she suggested tiredly, slinging her arm over his stomach and pressing her cold feet up against his calves to warm them. "Finn thought that was a good choice. I'm charting my own pregnancy progress against the book's timeline. I have graphs..." her voice was fading fast.

"Of course you do," he chuckled, running his fingers through her hair as he got comfortable. "But yeah, that'd be good."

"Mmmmkay," her breathing evened out within seconds, leaving Puck to lie awake with her warmth pressed up against his side and the weight of her leg over his thighs.

"Hey Rach," he shook her gently, not wanting her to fall asleep just yet. It seemed like he hadn't talked to her in forever, and after having her apologize to him for her behaviour, he realized he owed her an apology of his own.

Rachel shifted and murmured something incoherent before he felt her body jerk slightly, indicating she was more alert. "Yes?" She replied sleepily, her voice threading faintly through the darkness. "What is it, Noah?"

It took him a long time to answer and her hair brushed against his face as she leaned over him to turn the lamp back on. When she was looking down at him with sleepy, curious eyes, he finally spoke.

"I'm sorry too you know," he offered lowly.

"You don't have anything to be sorry for," she told him with a stifled yawn, stroking his cheek reassuringly before settling back on his chest, resting her chin on her forearm as she looked up at him.

He scoffed, "I've been a total prick, pretty much from the moment you moved in with me. I feel like I've been all over the place, emotionally I mean," he paused awkwardly; the concept of talking about his feelings was foreign to him.

Rachel recognized his discomfort and appreciated the effort he was making to talk through his concerns with her. She knew there was something more bothering him and now that the lines of communication had opened up again she wanted them to get everything out in the open.

"Well, it's like you said - us living together is bound to be fraught with teething problems until we get to know each other again and learn each others individual habits and quirks," she reasoned.

"There's that," he conceded, his fingers wandering down her side to fiddle with the hem of her pajama top. "But I haven't gone out of my way to make anything easy for you." He didn't want her letting him off the hook so easily. She was pregnant; the last thing he should have been doing was weighing her down with his insecurities when she had enough problems of her own to deal with. He owed her an explanation.

"I guess I just had it in my head that the only way we could do this parenting thing is if we're together, and you putting the brakes on anything happening between us kind of pissed me off."

She rolled off him and he felt her withdraw slightly at his indirectly accusatory words. He couldn't begrudge her the space she put between them on the bed. "That came out wrong," he stated needlessly, ensuring he kept a warm palm on her hip, not wanting her to venture too far away. "I just meant that I'm disappointed. I get that you're not ready to jump into anything with me when your divorce is far from being finalized, and we should be focusing on the baby and not trying to force something to work between us when we've been out of touch for so long, but I can't help the fact that knowing you're having my kid just…" he trailed off and he felt her slowly inch back towards him and press against his side once more, her breath tickling his neck as she rested her chin on his shoulder.

"I suppose there's something inherently biological about it," Rachel mused, "wanting to be with the mother of your child-"

He touched her cheek and tilted her chin so he could meet her eyes, "Maybe," he acknowledged. "I mean, when I see you walking around and you touch your stomach or something, I feel-" he paused, considering, not able to translate his thoughts into words. "Fuck, _I_ just want to touch you."

When she smiled and arched an eyebrow, he laughed. "Shit, it's not even sexual," he rolled his eyes with an answering smirk of his own. "Well, it sort of is," he amended and Rachel giggled. He nudged her playfully before he turned serious once more.

"Mainly I just want to touch you because in some weird way, it makes me feel closer to you, and to the baby."

Her smile faded as she realized how accurate Finn had been with his assessment of Noah's feelings. It made her feel even worse knowing how her distant behaviour that week must have affected him.

"I'm not saying this to guilt you or anything," he told her, seeing the slight frown pull at her lips. "It's just that I did things wrong the first time around, with Quinn."

"It was a mess with us being so young and then having to deal with her parents kicking her out like they did. Giving Beth up was so hard, you know? And I promised myself that when the time came for me to be a dad again, for real, I'd do it right."

Rachel listened to him breathe and she continued to rub her fingers up and down his forearm, knowing how painful it was for him to bring Beth into their conversation. They never talked about it, but she knew he lived with the guilt of giving up his daughter every day, even after all these years.

"Having you here is great, because I get to see everything first hand; I get to be involved this time, but it's kind of weird to be with you but not _with__you_; I guess I don't know exactly where the boundaries are. It's confusing." Puck confessed quietly.

She was silent for a moment and then she was rising on her elbow and leaning towards him to kiss him gently. "Noah, I know you care about me; I care about you too, and I understand how frustrating it must be for you, but I-"

He covered her mouth with his hand to silence her with a small smile and he shook his head. "Don't, babe. You don't have to try and justify why you're not ready. I really do get it. As I said, I'm not saying all this to guilt you, I just wanted to apologize for the way I was acting and let you know where my head has been at."

"Ok," she accepted softly. "Noah…" she opened her mouth and then closed it, shaking her head slightly before leaning down and pressing another lingering kiss on his lips.

"Thank you for understanding," she whispered, kissing him again like she just couldn't help herself. It was no wonder the lines were blurry. He pushed her hair back from her face as she pulled away and Rachel lowered herself back onto the mattress beside him, curling up against him once more.

"In my heart I want us to be together too. I just need a little more time to adjust."

Puck wrapped his arms around her and hugged her to his chest. "I'll give you all the time you need, babe." He felt her yawn again and he grinned as she once again became pliant in his arms as her fatigue hit her. He stretched out a hand to turn off the lamp and then settled back onto the pillows. This time of day could quickly become one of his favourites, he was sure, when she was sleepy and warm, and eager to cuddle up with him.

Of course, naked, sweaty, post-sex cuddling was awesome too. But that was something he shouldn't be thinking about just then. He didn't want to give himself a 'situation' to contend with and have to get up and leave her while he took care of his arousal in the bathroom.

"Sleep, Rach." He urged, rubbing a strand of her hair between his thumb and forefinger. "It's been a long day."

She murmured her agreement and buried her nose into his chest. "Goodnight, Noah."

"'Night, babe."

A few minutes later, after he had laid there listening to her breathing as it evened out again, he tentatively slipped his hand in between their bodies and felt for the slight swell of her stomach that he now knew was there. Rachel must have still been half awake because her own small hand came to rest on his and he felt her smile against his collarbone.

In no time at all he had fallen asleep with a similar grin gracing his features.

***/***

She woke up late the next morning and Rachel was disappointed to find that, like every morning recently, she was alone in Noah's bed. She'd thought things would be different after their talk last night, and as she caught sight of her pregnancy diary sitting in the middle of Noah's pillow, she knew they were.

A piece of paper was folded and tucked into the diary so that the flap was hanging over the cover with her name scrawled across it. She reached for the note and smiled as she read his nearly illegible handwriting.

_Rach,_

_Went downstairs to catch up on some paperwork. Come down when you're ready and I'll treat you and the Puckleberry baby to breakfast._

_- Noah_

His name was printed, in direct contrast to the messy cursive of the rest of the message - like he was unfamiliar with writing it. Rachel traced the N with her fingertip while rubbing her stomach soothingly with her free hand as she felt the familiar stirrings of nausea. She read the note again and giggled. She couldn't believe he had readily adopted the name Kurt had christened their baby, in honour of the couple name they had been assigned in high school - much to Rachel's amusement and Puck's exasperation.

She knew he had been horrified by it when they were younger, but she'd always thought it had a certain ring to it. 'Puckleberry baby' was an entirely appropriate nickname until they had discussed possible names for the baby, she decided. It was part of her and part of him after all. She liked it.

She got out of bed slowly, hoping to keep the morning sickness at bay, and spied something written on the back of the note. She turned the paper over and knew straight away that he had taken the time to read the rest of what she had written so far in her pregnancy diary and wondered how early he had risen that morning.

_P.S We're not naming our kid fucking Barbra!_

Rachel laughed as she headed towards the bathroom. She had months to wear him down yet.

_**A/N 2: I just want to take a moment to remind a very select few people who have taken the time out of their oh-so-busy schedules to persistently PM me this week, that this is fanfiction. Not all of the content is going to be accurate, and not every line, thought or action is going to be perfectly in character with those characters portrayed on the show.**_

_**Furthermore, this is my story. I've always said that I write for myself first, and at the end of the day, I just have to hope that the universe appeals to other people – thanks to truelovepooh for reminding me of that this week. I don't get paid for this (OBVIOUSLY, refund anyone?), I write because it's an outlet and it makes me happy, so being on the receiving end of some quite nasty messages was really hurtful. If you don't like the direction this story is going, if you find the plot 'outlandish' and my personal fav 'morally repugnant', well here's a thought – don't read it! And I think I've mentioned once, twice or maybe a hundred times that I anticipate that this fic is going to get angsty – so if you're finding it difficult to read now, you're certainly not going to want to stick around for the duration.**_

_**As I said at the beginning, I hope 99.9% of you skip past this, and I'm sorry to put a dampener on your reading experience, but I was seriously debating with myself whether to even go on this week - typing out this A/N has been quite therapeutic….Love (most of) you guys! Now...back to enjoying the last few days of my vacation Stateside...**_


	13. Ball Gowns and Blueberries

Puck had closed up the garage for the evening and was just settling down in front of the TV with a cold beer in his hand, when the back door opened and he heard Rachel's voice, tight and shrill as she responded to something Becca had been saying. Even though he couldn't make out the words that were being said, Puck knew that his sister was ignoring his warnings that she was to be nicer to Rachel, and was speaking to her with the same contemptuous disdain she had been subjecting the brunette to from the moment they had been introduced.

He closed his eyes and muttered a quick "Fuck my life," to the ceiling before slamming his beer bottle onto the coffee table and rising to his feet, meeting the two women in the kitchen where they were unloading numerous bags of groceries onto the countertop, their interaction strained.

"You've been complaining ever since we left the store," Rachel was saying in exasperation. "I allowed you to voice your objections at the check out, even though your performance was ill timed and highly embarrassing for me, and then continuously during the 10 minute drive home. I think, at this point, I've heard quite enough. I suggest you just get over it."

Though he was irritated by the fact that the two were seemingly incapable of putting aside whatever differences they had and put more of an effort into getting along, he was proud of Rachel for building up the courage to say something back to the younger girl instead of shying away from a confrontation like she had been doing since she had moved in. The last thing he wanted was for his sister and Rachel to be at constant loggerheads with each other, but what he wanted even more than that was to see the feisty, combative Rachel he remembered from high school replacing the quiet, sometimes withdrawn version that was apparently born around the same time her marriage had started to disintegrate.

Becca was scowling and had opened her mouth to retort when Puck made his presence known. Standing in the archway with his hands on hips, he demanded to know what the fuck was going on.

"Rachel spent $300 on groceries," Becca wasted no time in informing him, diving into one of the bags and retrieving the receipt to thrust in his direction.

"Holy shit," Puck swore incredulously as he plucked the docket from his sister's hand. "That's like, twice our usual weekly total."

Rebecca had crossed her arms and was nodding somewhat smugly now that she was sure Puck would take her side. "Exactly, I told you it was a mistake to take Preggers here along to the store with me. I always take care of the shopping myself, I don't need her tagging along throwing random things in the cart, because then stuff like that happens." She jerked her thumb in the direction of her brother who was still studying the receipt with furrowed eyebrows.

"What the hell do we need four types of pickles for?" He demanded, glancing first at his sister who was holding out her hands in a 'see what I had to deal with?' kind of gesture, and then at Rachel, who watching him worriedly as he inspected her purchases, afraid that he was legitimately upset with her.

"I'm sorry!" she cried defensively, throwing her hands up in the air when the weight of his stare become too much. "I didn't mean for it to get so out of hand. It's just that, as we were walking around crossing things off the list, everything looked so _good_ and I was famished, and I-"

She had cupped her stomach absently and given her barely discernable bump a gentle little rub, and as soon as Puck's eyes zeroed in on the movement, the battle was over before it even began. His gaze softened and he tossed the grocery receipt carelessly back into a bag before crossing to her side and drawing her into his arms.

"Cravings, huh?" he commented indulgently as he grinned and leaned down to kiss her on the nose. They had only just finished reading the chapter in her pregnancy book on food cravings and the expectant mother's possible food and smell aversions, but aside from her obsessive need to have a side of tomato with every meal, Rachel's appetite hadn't altered and she hadn't been longing for anything out of the ordinary – until now.

Rachel shrugged sheepishly, looking up at him from under lowered eyelashes. "I brought bacon." She confessed at a whisper, shame coloring her complexion.

"But you don't eat meat," he reminded her needlessly after a moment of stunned silence.

"I know!" she buried her head in his chest to contain her chagrin. "But I saw it and I had a sudden ravenous craving for bacon and eggs on a whole wheat bagel…."

"You don't eat eggs," Puck laughed, hugging her tighter.

She pulled back and smacked him lightly, silently reprimanding him for pointing out the obvious. Still chuckling, he squeezed her hip. "Is it kosher bacon at least?"

"Of course!" she mock glared at him for questioning her commitment to their faith, and stepped out of his embrace, reaching for the nearest bag to help with the unpacking of the groceries, a chore that she usually left to Becca or Noah since they did the bulk of the cooking and she still hadn't learned how to make anything more complicated than a toasted sandwich.

"Seriously, that's it?" Now Becca was scowling, having watched the scene unfold with growing disbelief. "You don't care that she spent all that money on crap she's probably just going to regurgitate in the morning anyway?"

He sighed as he dragged his eyes away from Rachel to focus on his sister, already knowing that there was a fight looming ahead of him, "Bec-"

"I thought you were watching money," the younger girl continued shrewdly. "I thought you said we had to tighten our purse strings around here or some shit."

Rachel looked up at that, "Noah?" she questioned uncertainly. He had been telling her repetitively not to worry about money, that he had everything covered. But from the way Becca was talking, it seemed like there might be something of a cash flow problem. "Is that true? If you're short on funds, I can pay for the groceries," she offered quietly. "Or I can take them back for a refund. I don't know what possessed me to think cheese in a can was a good idea and I didn't really need to buy blueberries. They're not in season, so they were nearly eight dollars a pint." She was fretting now, worrying her lip. "In hindsight, that was quite a frivolous purchase."

Rachel started to do some mental calculations in her head. She had _some_ money put away, not a lot, but there was a few thousand in a newly opened savings account from the security bonds she had cashed. Those funds had to last her until her divorce was finalized though, and given how uncooperative Michael and his lawyer were being, there was no telling how long that would.

"Don't be stupid," Puck was replying scornfully, annoyed at the idea of Rachel paying him back for eight dollar blueberries, or the suggestion that she would go back out at that time of night, to return half the groceries to the store - that's how worried she was about the state of their finances. "We're fine," he told her reassuringly.

"But, the blueberries…" she was looking at him all wide eyed and anxious, and he rolled his eyes.

"Fuck the blueberries, Rach. You want blueberries or blackberries or what ever the fuck kind of berries, you're getting them, end of story. There's no problem, promise."

Rachel put down one of the six cans of tomato soup she had brought, and reached her hand out to him, unconvinced. "But Rebecca just said that-" she began to press tentatively.

He took her hand and squeezed it. "We're fine," he repeated firmly, cutting her off. "The garage is doing well, the bills are getting paid – I'm just trying to put away some extra cash while the business is so profitable. Soon there's going to be medical bills and diapers, and then ballet or baseball and college tuition; I'm just getting a head start, that's all. Our kid's not going to miss out on anything." His tone was so adamant and it broke no room for argument, not that she had any.

Rachel blinked, feeling the moisture gathering in the corners of her eyes, and when she said his name again, her voice was thick with emotion. "Noah…" She stood on her tip toes to kiss him chastely, cupping his cheek and stroking his jaw with gentle fingers. When they parted, she smiled softly at him until Rebecca made retching sounds in the back ground and accidentally kicked the cupboard door she was standing next to.

"So we're not two steps away for destitution and having to move out and live under a park bench, that's awesome," she dead panned. "And it's fine for crazy cakes here to go nutso in the potato chip aisle but you chuck a sissy fit when I ask for your credit card to pick up my dress for the formal."

He narrowed his eyes, not wanting to be drawn back into the same argument they'd been having since she came home from the mall last Saturday with a $500 lay-away slip, telling him he needed to give her the balance of $460 by the following Wednesday so that she could pay it off and make arrangements for the alterations before the dance.

"There's a big difference between potato chips and a dress you're only going to wear once, that costs more than my entire wardrobe." He informed her wearily, in a manner that suggested they'd had this conversation before. They had, but last time it was Rebecca bitching about the two hundred bucks he'd dropped without thought when Rachel had admitted her bras were getting tight and the wire was digging into her, making her uncomfortable.

Rachel hadn't even wanted to mention it, but when the expecting couple had joined the Hudson's for dinner, Quinn had seen her fidgeting and subtly adjusting herself, and had offered to go lingerie shopping with her. While Puck had noticed his baby momma's increasing bust size with undisguised delight, he thought nothing of it beyond a burning desire to touch them. Quinn though had laughingly bemoaned the fact that she had to shop for new underwear every other week during her pregnancy, cluing Puck into the fact that it was something Rachel needed to do as well.

When he had questioned her on it, asking her flat out of she needed new garments, she had confessed quietly that she couldn't justify outlaying the money when she wasn't _that_ uncomfortable, citing that their money could be better used elsewhere, on other things, and Puck had turned away, not wanting to listen to anymore of her skewed logic that somehow made him feel like less of a man, like she was doubting his ability to provide for his family. He'd handed over his credit card to Quinn right there at the dinner table, with strict instructions to make sure that Rachel got whatever she needed, brushing aside Rachel's quiet, _"Thank__you"_as he picked up his fork and stabbed his chicken with more force that was strictly necessary_._

Later that night when they'd returned home, alone, Rachel had approached the subject again, voicing her concern that he was taking on too much financial responsibility for her and the baby. Her circumstances currently prevented her from contributing like she wanted too and she just wanted them to talk about it so she could be sure he wasn't secretly harbouring resentment for having to fork out the money for the things she needed until she was in a position to pay him back.

Puck had just stared at her and told her that she was being ridiculous – he was well aware of the realities of their situation and as far as he was concerned, him taking care of her was just part of the deal when he asked her to move in with him, and there was no way in hell he would be taking any money from her when her divorce was finalized and she had access to her accounts again. Rachel could see how insulted he was at the thought of it, so she wisely chose not to argue the point – when the time came, she'd figure out how she could repay him.

Becca had been apoplectic when Rachel returned home a day later with her purchases and thrown a tantrum so fierce, anyone would have thought Rachel had charged the crown jewels instead of two maternity bras and a pair of sweatpants to supplement her wardrobe, now that her jeans were getting tighter. That had been the same afternoon Puck had told Becca he wasn't paying for the dress she had picked out, so the timing couldn't have been worse.

"You dress like a homeless person!" Rebecca was protesting loudly, her face turning scarlet and her anger rising along with the volume of her voice. "I texted mom a picture of it and she said it was perfect. Why do you get the deciding vote on whether I get to have it?"

"Because I'm paying for it!" he shouted back in annoyance, slamming his fist on the counter. "It's all well and good for Ma to feed your ego - she barely sends me enough to cover your metro pass, let alone feed, clothe and keep the damn roof over your head."

Rebecca reeled back as if he had slapped her. "Well I'm sorry that taking responsibility for me has drained your resources so much, even though I work as many hours as I can around my schoolwork, so I can help out with my expenses."

He ran his hand over his scalp in frustration, "That's not what I-"

"When mom married Nigel you asked me if I wanted to stay in New York," she pointed out, her eyes bright, with just the hint of a quiver on her full lips that revealed just how upset she was by his phrasing. "You told me you wanted me here, with you."

"I do-"

"And now that you've moved your girlfriend in you're telling me how much of a fucking inconvenience it is for me to live here, mooching off you-"

Rachel was keeping silent, staying well out of the way of the verbal volleys being thrown around. She watched them spar back and forth, her head jerking from side to side as if she was watching a prolonged, high intensity tennis rally.

"Now wait just a damn minute," Puck interrupted, his anger flaring up and rivalling Rebecca's own. "Don't put fucking words into my mouth."

"I don't need to." She claimed. "You just said, pretty freaking clearly, that you have to pay for everything and basically insinuated you get nothing in return. It's not like I ever ask you for anything. This is the first dance I've planned on attending; I didn't do Prom, I didn't go to Homecoming. I just wanted to look pretty and you're ruining it for me, and it's not even happening for another three weeks!"

It was fascinating to see them square off, Rachel thought, even as she wished they would just end their argument. They were so alike - their mannerism, their vocabulary; they were both stubborn, hot headed people and she honestly never knew which of them would come out the victor when they engaged in these little war of wills. The siblings fought frequently and tended to forgive and forget quickly, thankfully bearing no grudges – a testament to their relationship and how close they were – but Rachel had never seen their altercations get so heated.

"Maybe I'll just pack my shit and get on a bus to Chicago. Mom will be happy to have me and I'm sure she'll buy me whatever dress I want!" Becca had spun on her heel ready to flee in typical teenage fashion, needing to have the last word, but Puck moved quickly.

"Rebecca!" he thundered, striding towards her and grasping her by the shoulders to turn around and face him. "You're fucking insane, you know that? You're a god damn pain in my ass, but I love you. You're living here because we both know it's the best thing for you, and I do want you with me, so you're not bussing it to Chicago or anywhere else for that matter - get that idea out of your fucking head right now."

She just glared at him and Puck sighed loudly.

"Look," he started again, more composed this time as he reigned in his exasperation. "Like it or not, living here means there's a few rules you gotta live by – not many, but a few – and one of them is: what I say goes. And I'm telling you, you're not buying a $500 dress when you can spend a hundred bucks and buy something similar that'll do just fine."

She was mutinously silent and he sighed again, wearily.

"What the fuck do you need to spend that much for anyway?" he demanded irritably, "You're a goddamn Puckerman for Christ's sake; you'd look hot in a fucking paper bag."

She tried to push him away but he held firm, "You're ridiculous." She muttered, averting her eyes and refusing to look at him. He contemplated her sullen profile for a moment and wondered whether this was karma kicking his ass for giving their mother such a hard time back in the day, dealing with his rebellious ways as a teenager. He couldn't send Rebecca to Juvie though, he just had to make her see that the whole world wasn't out to get her; he was always going to be in her corner, but that didn't mean he was going to cave and give in to her every whim.

"Ridiculous or not, I'm your big brother, and when it comes down to the choice of forking out five hundred bucks for sequins and fabric, or putting it away to help with your living expenses at college next year, you know which one I'm gonna pick." He leaned down and kissed the top of her dark blonde head, ignoring the way she squirmed in protest.

Rebecca stilled as his words caught up with her, "You're planning on helping me out next year?" She clarified in surprise.

"Well you gotta eat don't ya?" he retorted. "When I said college tuition before, I didn't just mean for the baby. I know your scholarship is gonna cover tuition and shit but, there's still books and your dorm fees- I've been putting money aside ever since the garage made it into the black. I just wish you'd just stay here; commuting into the city doesn't take that long, and it will save you a ton."

"I want to live in the dorms, I want the full college experience," she reminded him automatically, as she had done countless times before. Some of her animosity faded as he grumbled about frat parties and drunken assholes that were just after for one thing- reminding her just how much he cared about her, and how he had always acted in her best interest. She tuned out his under the breath ranting about the number of college dick he was going to have to cut off before even thinking of letting her loose in Manhattan by herself, and eyed him calculatingly.

A minute later, it was as if all the fight drained out of her and Rebecca bit her lip, the action making her seem years younger than the seventeen she claimed. "I didn't know you were doing that," she said quietly, shifting awkwardly, "contributing to college."

He just shrugged and gazed back at her steadily, "S'no big deal."

"Noah," Rebecca shook her head and voiced exactly what Rachel was thinking. "It's a very big deal."

Puck brushed her comment away and arched his eyebrow, "So, are you over wanting to knee me in the nuts now? Do you hate me a little less now?" he asked gruffly, the delivery of the question making it seem like this exchange might be something that had transpired more than once.

Rachel sniffled a little at the uncharacteristic tenderness in his tone, and the paternal way that he stroked the younger girl's hair as he tugged her a little closer and hugged her determinedly, whether she liked it or not. It seemed like Noah had a bigger role in Rebecca's parenting than Rachel had realized, and that discovery just made her admire him even more.

He was going to be a wonderful father.

"A little," Rebecca admitted, uncrossing her arms and hugging him back for a fraction of a second before detangling herself.

"You're not getting the dress," he reiterated, as he let her go, as if that wasn't already abundantly clear.

Rebecca grudgingly nodding, indicating she understood. "Fine," she sighed unhappily. "I'll just wear that paper bag shall I?"

He didn't bother answering; he just gave her a lopsided smile and walked over to the counter to finish unloading the groceries that had been sitting, abandoned on the counter since Rachel had got caught up watching their argument unfold. Rebecca sighed again, knowing the conversation was closed and she'd have to call up the boutique in the morning and forfeit her deposit.

Her trademark scowl returned and she spun on her heel once more, determined to cover up the small chink in her armour that had been exposed during their exchange. "Alright, now that this Hallmark moment is over, I'm out of here. I'm going to catch a movie with Celeste. Catch you two losers later."

He watched her go, shaking his head to himself and wondering what ever happened to the sweet little bucktoothed girl who used to beg him to sing her Disney songs before bedtime. "Be back before 11, it's a school night!" Puck shouted after her, "And if you're lying and meeting some dude somewhere, I'll know," he threatened. "Tell him I have a gun!" He turned around and caught Rachel staring at him in both amusement and adoration.

"Do you see what I have to deal with?" He asked jokingly, his annoyance still evident. She nodded, her eyes soft.

"You do it really well. I'd say you're a natural," she praised quietly and he rolled his eyes, self consciously scratching his eyebrow.

"She's not a bad kid," he told her sincerely, not for the first time. "She's just used to being the centre of everyone's attention – mine, our Ma's."

Rachel nodded in understanding, "It must be difficult for her, having her mother so far away." She still felt Shelby's absence in her life acutely, and it had been well over a decade since she'd last laid eyes on, or heard from the woman that had given birth to her.

Puck gave a half shrug, "S'pose. She and Ma aren't so close anymore. When Nigel turned up on the scene and he and Ma got hitched so quickly, that's when the attitude kicked in. She has this complex, like she's gonna be replaced and forgotten about, and I think it hurt her more than she lets on that my Ma gave in so easily and agreed to let her stay in New York. Becca would have hated Chicago, but I think she would have felt better if Ma had fought a bit harder to make her go."

"Oh," Rachel murmured, empathy blooming for the teenager after having gained a small insight as to why she acted so abrasively and why she had taken an instant dislike to Rachel – Rebecca was afraid she would take him away from her. "Well, I suppose that explains a few things."

Puck had taken over unpacking the groceries but he paused at her comment, quirking his eyebrow in askance.

Rachel looked at him and leaned back against the counter, watching him as pulled out jars and cans, and packets of pasta. "Perhaps Rebecca's resistance at my moving in here can be attributed to those issues – a fear of being discounted and brushed aside. She seems quite jealous whenever we talk about the baby in front of her."

"Maybe," he agreed. It made sense, but he hadn't given a lot of thought to her obvious issues with Rachel – he really should get to the root of that. "But she has to get over it. You're here and the baby's coming. Nothing we can do to change that." She knew from the simple glance he bestowed on her, that he wouldn't want to change either of those facts anyway. That knowledge put her mind at ease.

"You're essentially the only father figure she's had," Rachel pointed out. "And she was bothered by the fact that you're saving money for when the baby comes. At least she was upset until you disclosed that you had been putting some aside for her as well." She smiled at his refusal to meet her gaze, knowing that he probably didn't want her to dwell on that revelation. It never failed to amuse her that he was so reluctant to let anyone know how incredibly sweet he was to the people that mattered to him. He did such a great job taking care of her and Rebecca and the baby – she didn't know why he felt the need to ensure his gestures remained so hush, hush.

"That's very generous and admirable of you by the way," she pressed, talking around his silence. "I'm glad you're in a position to help her. Rebecca's very lucky to have a brother like you."

"God, just stop," he muttered, flashing her a small smile to take any sting out of the words. "S'like I said, it's not a big deal. I want to give her what I can, but seriously, am I being unreasonable? Five hundred bucks for a dress is fucking insane."

Wisely, she kept her mouth shut; she had only just recently put dresses in storage that were six times that amount. Sometimes it was hard to dwell on how much her situation had changed, and in such a short space of time. As she thought about those dresses and the other life that came with them, Rachel had an idea.

She looked up and found Puck watching her, expecting a response. Impulsively, she kissed him lightly as she walked past on the way to the bedroom to retrieve her cell phone and call Kurt.

"I just need to make a quick phone call, I'll be back to help you with dinner."

Puck snorted at that, because her help? Yeah, not so great. Rachel was usually more of a hindrance in the kitchen than anything. He was left with a dozen bags of groceries and his own company as he returned to the task of putting everything away. He vowed to appreciate the quiet while he could; his girls were fucking loco -both of them.

_***/***_

_The next evening…._

"You can't honestly tell me that the hot brunette chick belongs with that goofy looking fucktard of a quarterback," Puck was protesting from the couch in disgust, squeezing her knee as Rachel sat down on the other end and swung her legs back over his thighs, offering him half of the York peppermint patty she had gotten up to retrieve during the commercial break. He declined with a shake of his head and she munched on it contentedly, unable to remember the last time she had allowed herself to snack on refined sugar.

"They're in love," she defended, her eyes returning to the TV screen that was currently showing one of her new guilty pleasures: the teenage musical comedy on Fox centered on a school choir of misfits and their quest to win a national title. It made her nostalgic for their own Glee days, but it drove Puck insane with its penchant of covering old school, kick-ass power ballads that he claimed the lead, the 'fucktard of a quarterback' butchered with his weak baritone and constipated expression; the brunette sang circles around him and frankly, it was fucking embarrassing to watch.

"They are not in love," Puck countered, "He might be in love with the idea of tapping that sexy piece of ass, but the fact is, the dude's so self involved he can't see straight. He's never going to be the kind of boyfriend she deserves, and I can't believe the rest of the losers let him get away with being so douchey. It's like, she can't even be herself around him – he's so insecure, she's always tip toeing around his ego."

He actually pouted and crossed his arms, and Rachel giggled at his outraged expression. "Well who do you believe she belongs with then?" She questioned curiously as his hand slid down to caress her calf muscle.

"That's easy," Puck claimed, "Douchey Mc Got-No-Pipe's best friend, the badass that gets all the chicks."

Rachel looked at him incredulously, as if she couldn't quite believe what she was hearing. "Tucker? He's a Neanderthal. They wouldn't last a week." She shook her head, believing that to be one of his more outlandish theories when it came to this show, and that was saying something considering some of the things he proposed were happening in the background of the show's storyline were just preposterous.

For instance, he insisted the choir director had major wood for the bitchy head cheerleader, and was adamant that the resident bad boy, the one they referred to as Tuck, had fucked the guidance counsellor against the wall in her office, right next to her display of brochures humorously titled, _"So__a__person__in__a__position__of__authority__is__taking__advantage__of__you,__and__you__like__it__…__."._His argument kept returning to the one scene that had shown him leaving her office and the next frame, where you could see several of the brochure racks askew as the guidance counsellor stood in front of them looking suitably ashamed.

"No way, they'd be like, the most badass couple to ever rule that school. They were epic in that one episode they were together," Rachel had to hide a grin at his growing enthusiasm. "She's totally hot enough to keep him from fucking up too badly and he mellows her out – plus they have like, a ton in common, and he'd never ask her to change. The same can't be said for the fucktard."

She gazed at him thoughtfully, finding his fixation on the character's love lives completely unexpected but amusing none the less. "You've really put a lot of thought into this haven't you?"

It was obvious that she was making fun of him and Puck scowled. "Watch your damn show," he grumbled, slouching in his seat and getting caught up with her in the latest drama – this week's promos had included an unexpected pregnancy and allegations of a student-teacher affair. He was putting money on the guidance counsellor and the bad boy. It was the sweater sets, he'd bet. There was something alluring about a chick in argyle.

As the closing credits rolled and Rachel was quietly humming along with the theme song, a loud knock came at the back door and she shot to her feet, a huge smile adorning her face. "That'll be Kurt!"

Puck looked after her in confusion as she hurried through the kitchen to let her friend in, "What the fuck is Beyonce doing here?" Rachel had lived there for over a month now and the Fashionista had yet to grace their doorstep during that time to inspect her new digs.

"Kurt!"

"Diva!"

The two exchanged air kisses and as Puck finally got to his feet to flush out the reason behind the unexpected visit, Hummel came striding gracefully through the entry to the living room, laden down with numerous garment bags with Rachel in tow.

"It took me forever to get here. Traffic was horrendous leaving Manhattan – it's a mystery to me why people would even want to cross to this side of the bridge. My driver is circling the neighborhood, too afraid to park the car in case he gets assaulted or car-jacked while I'm visiting."

Puck rolled his eyes at the dig, "This is a safe neighbourhood," he claimed reassuringly, "I promise you; your driver and the wheels on your town car will be safe and intact whenever you decide to leave. Is that gonna be soon?" He wondered jokingly. Rachel slapped him gently in silent reproach for his comment and turned her attention to the bags Kurt had brought along.

"Is that all of them?" Her gaze was eager and Kurt nodded.

"So where is the younger Puckerman, the delight I've heard so much about?"

"Becca? She's in her room, studying." Puck replied, confused. "What's going on?"

Rachel indicated the hall that led to the bedrooms and Kurt immediately set off with the brunette hot on his heels.

"Hey!" Puck called out to their retreating backs. "You gonna explain to me what the hell is going on?" He was left talking to thin air as their bodies disappeared from view, and he huffed petulantly. No one told him _anything_.

***/***

Becca looked up as the door to her bedroom swung wide open and a slight man she'd never seen before, with porcelain features and an expression that reeked of self-importance, strode in as if he owned the place without announcing himself or waiting for an invitation. He sat the load he'd been carrying with inordinate care onto her bed and looked around with undisguised curiosity. His gaze roamed over each of her belongings until it landed on the sleeve of her Bob Marley record, lying on the floor and the ancient record player that sat in one corner. He arched one of his sandy brows in her direction before sparing another glance at her vinyl collection and the cloth screen prints of album covers that adorned her walls. "Vintage," he surmised, casting one last critical eye around the room. "It works."

Rebecca tossed down her pen and swivelled her desk chair around to glare at him, "Can I help you?" She enquired acidly, her gaze narrowing. She glanced at Rachel who had entered right after and made herself comfortable beside the bags placed carefully across her duvet, with similar condescension. "Who's the homo?"

Rachel frowned at her and looked suitably aghast at her lack of a filter, "Rebecca! That's incredibly rude of you. You don't address somebody by a derogatory name for their sexual orientation. That's highly offensive, not to mention extremely hurtful."

Becca snuck a look at the intruder who looked anything but offended as he preened in front of her full length mirror, so she pushed away any remorse she might have been feeling. "Dude, I've got a math quiz tomorrow, so do you mind telling me what the hell you want so I can get back to studying?" Her tone lost some of its attitude but her face was anything but welcoming as the stranger continued to poke amongst her things.

"Apparently you have your school formal coming up. I heard you were without a dress, so I brought you some options to choose from." Kurt indicated his haul and took a seat on the lumpy armchair opposite the bed, crossing his legs daintily and resting his clasped hands on his knees as his blue eyes finally landed on her again, pinning her with their assessing gaze.

She could help it, she gaped. "You brought me dresses?" She was at a loss. "Why?"

Puck spoke up from the doorway and startled all three occupants of the room; no one had noticed that he had come to join them. "I'll ask again," he started mildly. "What the fuck is going on in my house?" he directed this question to Rachel who just smiled back at him serenely.

"After your-" she paused delicately, "_discussion_ with Rebecca in the kitchen last night, I phoned Kurt and asked him if he would mind getting some of my eveningwear out of storage. Rebecca is only slightly taller than me so I was certain that I would have something that would be perfect for her to wear to the dance – and much more beautiful than both the dress she had selected before, and anything she would be able to find on the budget you gave her."

Both siblings were staring at her as Kurt jumped to his feet and started unzipping the bags with undisguised enthusiasm. "So, who is your designer of choice? Let's see what we have here…a little Dolce & Gabbana," he hung a shimmering royal blue halterneck from the canopy of the four poster bed. "A gorgeous little Armani number," a floor length black strapless dress joined the first one. "John Galliano, Colette Dinnagan, Versace, Vera Wang…." Kurt rattled off the designers and each of the major fashion houses as dress after dress was hung neatly, ready for Rebecca's perusal.

"Ah!" he pulled out a feathered teal gown and inspected it lovingly, "And what talented soul is responsible for this _pièce__de__résistance_?" he questioned dramatically.

Rachel giggled and beckoned a stationary Puck over to sit with her, patting the mattress beside her invitingly. "That would be you, Kurt. I love that dress, I wore it to the Tony Awards two years ago."

Kurt tapped his chin as he struck an exaggerated thoughtful pose, "Now I remember. You were a fashion _do_ in all of the major tabloids. I was so proud!" They exchanged smiles as Puck crossed slowly to Rachel, his wary gaze shifting between a still stunned Becca and the explosion of color, silk, satin and tulle that was rapidly taking over the bedroom.

"Rachel," Rebecca breathed in amazement. It was probably the first time the younger girl had ever addressed her properly, without malice, and the brunette's head shot up at the sound of her name. She'd been relegated to _Preggers_, _Crazy_, _Hormone_ _Imbalance_ or the most hated nickname of all, _Tubbers_, for the longest time. "Are you serious? You'd let me wear one of these?"

She nodded wordlessly, feeling Puck slide in behind her on the bed, his chest settling against her back. She leaned into him and held Rebecca's gaze. "They're only sitting in a closet somewhere, gathering dust, and I doubt I'd be able to fit back into them now, or anytime in the foreseeable future," she gestured to her small belly.

"I'm sure you would have found something lovely yourself, within budget and one that your brother approved of," she rested her palm on Puck's forearm and squeezed gently "But I'd be honoured if you wore one of these instead." Her head turned and she looked over her shoulder at Puck. "That is, of course, if that's alright with you?"

He considered her for a minute before his lips quirked and he shrugged, "A dress is a dress," he replied easily. "S'long as her boobs aren't falling out all over the place, I'm down."

He found himself on the receiving end of three scornful looks. "A dress is a dress," Kurt was repeating in disgust as Rebecca leapt to her feet and reached a hesitant hand towards the dress closest to her. "Honestly!"

"These aren't just dresses, Noah," she was so caught up in the fairytale of it all, of having so many high end couture options at her disposal, that Becca couldn't manage to inject any of her usual snark into her tone. "There's no way anyone else in my year will be wearing a real designer gown. Mine'll be the most expensive one there!"

She picked out the royal blue halterneck dress and held it up to herself, just as Kurt picked up a melon coloured high necked, pleated panelled one and pressed it against his own chest. "What do you think?" he joked, pursing his lips thoughtfully as he gazed down at the full skirt.

"It's all wrong for your complexion," she returned dryly, feeling Puck chuckle behind her.

He pretended to sigh and hung it back up, "You're probably right about that."

They spent an hour debating their favourites as Rebecca stripped to her panties and bra without shame in front of them, and changed into dress after dress, laughing and joking until they found the one that hugged the long, lean lines of her body. The deep purple silk complemented her colouring more favourably than the others – it nearly made her skin glow.

"What do you think?" They were all surprised when Rebecca turned to Rachel for her opinion. She covered her astonishment well.

"I think you look beautiful," Rachel replied truthfully. "The ruching on the bodice and the cinching at the waist really highlight your best features. As a blonde, you should wear more purple. You look amazing."

Becca smiled prettily at her and rocked from side to side, the material gently swishing with her movements.

"Noah?" she was waiting for his approval.

He struggled against the urge to tell her the neckline was too low and point out that the way the material hugged her ass was guaranteed to evoke thoughts in a teenage boy that were NC-17, but a well placed elbow in his stomach had the words dying in his throat.

"Yeah," he said simply. "That's the one." Rachel laced her fingers through his as they continued to gaze at the young girl twirling in front of the mirror.

"Shoes," Kurt clicked his fingers and crossed his arms. "Strappy and silver," he directed decisively. "Do you have anything like that?"

Rebecca shook her head in disappointment before glancing at Rachel and her brother, "No, but I'm sure I can get some." Rachel felt Puck nod behind her and her smile widened.

Rebecca took one last glance at her reflection and let out a small squeal before enveloping a startled Kurt into an impulsive hug. "This was so awesome, I can't even-" She shook her head and skipped over to the bed, dropping to the mattress in front of Rachel and Puck.

"Thank you," she said simply, sincerely. "You didn't have to organize all this," she gestured at the mess they had made, flinging the numerous garments around the room.

"I've been so awful to you. I don't even know why you'd want to do something so nice for me." Her head bowed shamefully and she seemed, for the first time ever, to regret her behavior and the way she had been treating Rachel from the first day they'd met.

Rachel smiled gently and touched Rebecca's hand, "I wanted to do something nice for you, because we're family." Rebecca's head shot up, her hazel eyes darting from Rachel to Puck, swirling with questions and undefined, repressed emotion.

Puck held her gaze steadily as Rachel continued nervously. "You're going to Aunt Becca in a few months time, and I honestly believe that our baby," she squeezed Puck's hand, "is going to grow up idolizing you."

"_Lord__help__us_," Puck muttered under his breath, the possible truthfulness of that statement threatening to turn him grey way before his time.

"I just wanted you to have something amazing to wear to the dance." Rachel was saying earnestly. "Every girl should have the opportunity to dress like a princess at least once in their lives, and I was only too happy to play fairy godmother. You deserve that."

Rebecca's gaze was inscrutable when she finished, and Rachel found herself shifting timidly, waiting for a response. Puck ran a hand comfortingly down her back and they both held their breath, wanting to hear something, _anything_, from the teenager in return.

The reaction they got was unexpected. Rebecca leaned forward and hugged Rachel tightly. "Thank you," she said again, quietly. "I won't ever forget it."

"You're welcome," Rachel whispered into her shoulder, touched and feeling the ever present tears pooling up in her eyes. After a moment, Puck's arms came around the both of them.

"Fucking chicks," he murmured affectionately, breaking the emotional tension of the moment and causing the two women to break out into giggles. But still, Rebecca was reluctant to let go. Rachel relaxed into the three way embrace and glanced at Kurt over the younger girl's shoulder, puckering her lips and sending him a silent kiss. The designer just winked and busied himself with the task of zipping the dresses back into the garment bags.

It was safe to say that this little bonding exercise was a resounding success.

***/***

That night served as a catalyst for change around the apartment. Rebecca was no longer sullen and withdrawn, and while her conversations with Rachel were still sometimes awkward and forced, she was making a noticeable effort in keeping the exchanges friendly, and both Puck and Rachel appreciated it.

Thankfully, it was as though all the tension had dissipated from their living quarters - that was until Puck came home from the gym one night, sweaty and tired, and seemingly forgetting the fact that he owned a shirt.

"Hey, babe," he greeted tiredly as he walked through the living room, naked from the waist up, dumping his duffle on the floor to be unpacked later.

"Hello, Noah." She looked up from her book, and whatever she was about to say next was forgotten when she was confronted by the expanse of glistening bronze skin passing by her. He was unscrewing his Gatorade, oblivious to her reaction; his head tipped back to drink the last mouthful of liquid as he walked, his Adams apple bobbing as he swallowed.

Rachel's head turned and her gaze followed him into the kitchen. She felt her skin flush as he wiped the back of his hand over his mouth and stretched restlessly in front of the fridge, his muscles bulging as he rotated his shoulder. He came to bed shirtless most nights, and for the most part she did her best to ignore his impressive physique, even when he pressed up against her wanting to 'cuddle'. But that didn't mean that she wasn't rendered speechless in his presence when he caught her off guard, flaunting his sculptured abs and lovely arms when her hormones were already out of control and bullying her into demanding he take her on the nearest horizontal surface.

They had agreed to keep their relationship strictly platonic, concentrating on forging a friendship, on which a relationship could be built upon later, or failing that, at the very least a co-operative, unified parenting team. But they slipped often into a more affectionate relationship; Puck was constantly throwing his arm around her shoulders in public or reaching for her hand whenever she was within touching distance, and she certainly did nothing to discourage him from stealing kisses – in fact, she was often the one curling her fingers into his shirt and brushing her lips lightly over his when the urge to do so arose. It was no wonder the lines were so blurred.

Her raging pregnancy hormones were her worst enemy and she had to wonder how long she was expected to hold out when she had a man as appealing as Noah, the very definition of raw, sexual magnetism, constantly up in her personal space. They shared a bed every night for goodness sake; she couldn't be held responsible for jumping him when her body was betraying her with its carnal urges and he had a smirk that could make even the most level headed of women, strip off her clothes and beg for the sex to be dirty.

"You ok?" Her eyes had clouded over as she daydreamed and she shook her head, disorientated, and looked up to see him standing behind the sofa, looking down at her in concern.

"Yes," she managed to reply without stuttering. Rachel gave herself a silent pat on the back for that. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"You're all pink," he reached a hand out and pressed it against her forehead, feeling how warm she was. His touch did nothing to quench the flames that were licking from her core, heating her skin and making her twitch with barely restrained need.

"I'm fine," she dismissed hurriedly, feeling the strain on the last threads of her self control as they threatened to snap.

"Ok," he slowly drew back his hand and grinned at her. She closed her eyes as he bent down and kissed her temple. "I'm gonna take a shower."

As he retreated into the hall, Rachel buried her face in the sofa cushions and shrieked in frustration. Who was she fooling? Her self control was tenuous at best, and what on earth was she thinking anyway? Willing depriving herself of his hands and his mouth, and the sensations he could coax through her body, was one of her more uninspired ideas.

Her breathing was ragged as she raised her head, wanting nothing more than to join him in the shower and lick the droplets of water from his skin.

Rachel closed her eyes again, admitting defeat. Resistance was futile.

_***/***_

_Coming up next chapter…smuuuuuuuut…_

_**Guys, I am beyond thankful for the outpouring of support after my rant in the last chapter. I confess that I took a few negative words to heart when I should have discounted them, and I feel ridiculous for getting so upset about it when logically I know I can't please everyone. I appreciate each and every one of the reviews and PM's I got – especially from first time reviewers who felt compelled to drop me a line to express their love for this story – that totally blew me a way. I hope I got around to replying to everyone but if I missed you, rest assured I love you and thanks!**_


	14. Coitus Interrupted

_**This chapter got crazy long so yes, there will be two C&C updates this week...Most of this chapter is smutty, so if you shouldn't be reading, don't.**_

Puck was sorting through the mail from the day before as he trooped up the stairs from the garage to the apartment. He'd opened the garage at 7AM that morning and Rachel had still been fast asleep when he left their bed at 6:45, so now that Lenny and Steve had made it in to work, he thought he'd pop upstairs to steal a good morning kiss and see how the Puckleberrybaby was treating her before Mrs Catalano brought in her ancient Ford at 9:30 - a heap of shit she wouldn't let anyone look at but him.

The sound of melodic humming reached his ears as he neared the bedroom and he pushed open the door without thought, smiling absently at the sound of her voice. A second later he heard a startled gasp and the humming came to an abrupt halt; as his eyes flew from the registration renewal in his hands to Rachel, he stopped dead in his tracks, his greeting falling silent on his lips. She was standing with her back to him on the other side of the room in front of the full length mirror, completely naked, except for the scrap of pink cotton slung low on her hips.

"Noah!" she cried out in embarrassment, attempting to cover her breasts with her hands as her head turned to regard him over her shoulder. "What are you doing up here? Why didn't you knock?"

Her tone was accusatory and her blush was quickly spreading from her face, all the way down to her chest. His eyes took a slow appraisal of her body, and by the time his gaze had lingered on the curve of her ass and the smooth expanse of her naked back, she had turned her head back to the mirror, standing still, undecided as to if she should dive towards the bed for the safety of the blankets or cross nearer to where he was standing to retrieve the robe that was hanging on the back of the door. His eyes locked on hers in the reflection of the mirror and she swallowed heavily, her pulse leaping in response to the heated look he was giving her.

"S'my bedroom too," he reasoned lowly, "I didn't think I had to knock,"

After a moment she tilted her head in acknowledgement and her eyes fluttered nervously away from his, "Yes, well, I suppose-"

"Besides," he continued, cutting her off, "If I'd have knocked, look at what I'd be missing out on," he gestured towards her, licking his lips as he once again took a moment to appreciate the view. She felt the weight of his stare boring into her back and could feel her nipples puckering against her palms in response to his attention. She shifted uncertainly and then froze as he tossed the mail carelessly to the floor and slowly began to walk towards her. Rachel held her breath when he stopped directly behind her - his body nearly touching hers - feeling the cotton of his work shirt brushing lightly against her back as he breathed shallowly, in and out. She watched his eyes in the reflection, focused on her as he placed his calloused hands on her shoulder, and she finally exhaled, nosily.

"Noah?" she whispered his name and when his gaze rose to meet hers again in the mirror, she couldn't help but lean back into him, mesmerized by how dark his pupils seemed.

He cleared his throat loudly, "What's the lotion for?" He croaked, indicating the bottle sitting on the dresser with the picture of the expectant mother on the front. A heavy fragrance lingered in the air and he could tell from the glistening appearance of her midsection that she had been lathering herself with it just prior to his arrival.

"I-it's cocoa and shea butter," she answered unsteadily, feeling completely unbalanced by his proximity, "for stretch marks."

He was silent for a moment and then she saw his hands move. She tracked their progress from her shoulders, down her arms, until they finally settled at her waist. "Were you done?" he asked huskily. She found herself shaking her head even though his presence was causing a thick fog to permeate her brain, and she honestly couldn't remember if she had been.

Puck made a sound low in his throat as his strong arms encircled her, the dark hair sprinkling his forearms tickling her skin as he reached for the moisturizer, squirting a generous amount in his cupped palm before rubbing his hands together to warm the lotion, "Where?" his voice was husky, containing so many inflections of want and desire.

Rachel blinked dumbly, trying frantically to recall what he'd only just asked her. "A-ahhh," she stuttered vaguely, hearing him chuckle behind her and kiss her shoulder.

"Here?" His palms skimmed gently along the slight curve of her bump, transferring the moisturizer onto her skin, and then in large circular motions, he began to rub it in.

"Mmm," she nodded slightly, her head lulling lazily to the side as she forced herself to relax into his touch, which was more of a light caress than anything. Her eyes were half closed but transfixed on his large hands as they slid across her stomach; it appeared as though he could cradle her entire bump in the palm of his hand and as he did just that, she was overcome with a sense of calm and tranquillity. The feel of his hands gliding across her flesh was intoxicating, and her entire body was seduced into the feeling of safety, learning that in his embrace, she could let down her defenses and know that she was protected.

That feeling of soothing serenity was gone a few moments later though, replaced by a nervous energy as his hands moved higher, grasping her wrists and tugging her hands away from her breasts. Her heart was beating double time as he held her hands captive by her hips and his hungry gaze swept over her chest. She could feel his breath, hot and labored in her ear.

"There?" His tone was eager now, and it took her a moment to realize he was asking whether the cocoa butter was to be applied to that area as well. She hesitated for only a fraction of a second before nodding a second time. Once again he reached around her for the moisturizer, his chest pressing into her back, and this time, as his hips nestled against her backside, she felt just how aroused he was and knew that their seemingly innocent flirtation and the way they had been dancing around their attraction to each other for weeks, had come to a head.

She moaned quietly in heady anticipation before his hands even came in contact with her breasts, and when he finally cupped them both and teased her nipples with his thumbs, she felt her knees give out and it was only his arms around her that prevented her from crumpling to the floor.

"You ok?" he asked roughly as his fingers squeezed and fondled, taking the time to familiarize themselves with the shape and weight of her expanding bust line. Rachel nodded jerkily and her lips parted to reply, but the words would not come. She was lost in a haze of lust and need, and all she could do was whimper to indicate that he should keep going, fervently thankful that, for once, he seemed willing to take direction.

When one of his hands left her breast to caress its way south, she tensed, licking her lips as she watched his long fingers make their descent and brush teasingly over her panties. "Fuck, baby," he groaned as Rachel gasped out his name, stroking her lightly through wet cotton until she was writhing against him, "You're fucking _soaked_."

Rachel tossed her head and closed her eyes; this exquisite torture had gone on long enough. "Noah, don't tease - I want -" before she could tell him just how badly she wanted him, and how she had recently determined that just the smell of his soap on his skin could drive her to a near crazed distraction, they were interrupted.

"Hey Boss, you up here?"

Puck's head shot up at the sound of Lenny's voice and in an instant he had let her go and was striding towards the door to partially close it and stick his head out, blocking Rachel from view should his employee be close enough to glance into the bedroom.

"Yeah," he bit out, frustration lacing his tone. "What's up?" It was a struggle to maintain his cool when all he wanted to do was bellow at the man for his fucking shit timing.

"Mrs Catalano is downstairs; she won't leave her car with us until she talks to you first."

Puck rested his forehead against the doorframe and swore under his breath. He glanced over his shoulder at Rachel and cursed again when he saw she had been spurred into action. She had hurriedly thrown on one of his t-shirts and was resolutely combing her hair, struggling to compose herself and pretend that she wasn't affected by what had transpired between them a few minutes ago.

"Alright, I'll be down in a second," he waited until he could hear Lenny's retreating footsteps before he turned back towards her. "Rach-"

She smiled brilliantly at him and it was only because he could see her fingers clenching around the hairbrush so tight her knuckles had turned white, that he knew that her mega watt grin was fake. "It sounds like you have a busy day ahead of you," she commented pleasantly, concealing her disappointment. "I might go for a walk and stop by the public library this morning for some new reading material. Would you like me to get you anything while I'm out?"

"Don't," he took a step back towards her and stuffed his hands in his pockets, though all he wanted to do was haul her back into his arms. But he knew as much as he wanted to, he couldn't stay up here with her. Mrs Catalano was an impatient, crazy old bat, and he wouldn't put it past her to march up to the apartment herself if he wasn't down there within the next few minutes.

"Don't what?" Rachel asked, baffled. "Don't go out?"

Well yeah, he didn't want her leaving the apartment when there was the slightest chance he could steal away from the garage later and they could pick up right where they had left off, but that's not what he meant. "Don't pretend that didn't just happen,"

Her confusion cleared and she graced him with a softer, more genuine smile, "I'm not," she promised. "I just-"

"You've been giving me these looks for days," he interrupted, not wanting to hear her dismiss or explain the last five minutes away. "You've acted like all you wanted to do was rip off my clothes and devour me. You know you want this as much as I do."

She felt her face heat up, "You noticed that? I thought I was being subtle."

He laughed and walked back towards her, "Subtle like a fucking sledgehammer," she returned willingly to his arms where he kissed first her cheek, then her lips.

"Why didn't you say anything?" She wondered, alternately curious and somewhat offended that he didn't just take matters into his own hands and try to entice her into bed. She knew she would have been helpless to resist his advances and the incessant throbbing at her core could have been assuaged days ago.

"I wanted to, believe me," the agonized longing in his voice told its own story. "But we agreed to take things slow – you needed to be the one to decide when we were ready to take the next step. And anyway, I'm reading all about this in the chapter of the baby book I'm up to at the moment. Your hormones are fucking out of control right now – I knew it was only a matter of time before you came around; apparently you've got, like, sex on the brain constantly, more than any dude even."

"I'm well aware," she muttered darkly, before looking up at him in surprise. "That's not what we are reading," she contradicted. They had been reading sections of _What__to__Expect__When__You're__Expecting_ together before bed each night, and she had purposely skipped over the section detailing hormonal changes and an increase in sexual appetite when it became apparent that she was, in fact, craving _him_.

"Well _we're_ not," he conceded, "but Finn gave me another book to read. It's like a dude's guide to parenting or something, and it has a whole section on pregnancy and stuff. I've been reading it downstairs when it's slow. S'pretty cool." It hadn't occurred to her that he would take the time to seek out other texts to read himself. Rachel shouldn't have been surprised that he had though; Puck's was eager to learn about the week by week development of the fetus and the changes in her body. He wanted to be involved in every aspect of her pregnancy.

Rachel couldn't help but smile at the casualness of his tone, because his eyes were dancing with unveiled enthusiasm. He had taken to the role of expectant daddy like a duck to water, and it only made him more attractive to her. She rested her palm on his chest, right over his heart, as she looked up at him, "And this 'dude's guide to parenting' warned you I might be constantly aroused by you in the coming months?" she enquired, amused.

"Yep," he looked smug, and she knew he'd be only too happy to exploit that fact to his advantage now that they weren't ignoring the issue of sex as they had been. He had been unintentionally seducing her for days, walking around half naked, treating her to views of his magnificent physique. Or perhaps, she pondered suspiciously, his sudden habit of forgoing a shirt hadn't been unintentional at all. Taking things slow had been her idea, and while Puck had agreed to the plan, he had always refused to hide the fact that he wanted to sleep with her. She wouldn't put it past him to have deliberately paraded around, flexing his impressive biceps, knowing that his arms had always been the feature she had found most attractive about him – though his lips and his wickedly talented fingers were in contention as well, along with his lovely voice of course.

It was obvious she had spent a great deal of that week considering his physical attractiveness, but her smile faded as she recalled _why_ she had been resisting his sexual magnetism. Rachel regarded him worriedly, allowing her doubts to once more take over, "Do you honestly think we're ready for that?"

Puck raised his eyebrow, "Seriously? You're asking me a dumb ass question like that?" He pressed his still rampant erection against her stomach to remind her just how ready he was, and she inched backwards, frowning.

"No, Noah..." she took a deep breath, "do you think we're_ready_?" She emphasized the word. He just stared at her and she rushed on, "Maybe it's a good thing that we were interrupted, I mean, the last thing we should do is rush into anything that will just-"

"We're not rushing into shit!" he countered in dismay, "Babe, it's been weeks, fucking, like, a lot of them - _months__even_- since we last had sex. M'not going anywhere; neither are you. We can take this relationship or whatever slow and still do the nasty." His fingers inched under her t-shirt to brush the back of her thighs suggestively and she rolled her eyes.

"The very fact that you refer to the act of love making as 'the nasty' is quite telling," she told him, a hint of exasperation in her tone.

"What the fuck ever," he groused. "Baby, we've given things time to settle and it's obviously driving you crazy not getting up on this," he gestured at himself and Rachel couldn't contain her giggle. He paused to grin back, then regarded her sincerely, "Seriously Rach, you're so tightly wound. Tension is bad for the baby you know; we should totally do it. You know I can make you feel so good..." he dropped his head and nuzzled his face into her neck, kissing her pulse point that had started hammering away at the first touch of his lips.

"You're incorrigible, Noah Puckerman," she declared weakly, her breath hitching when his hands cupped her ass and pulled her pelvis in direct contact with his. "Using our unborn child's general health as a motivator to help you get laid is completely reprehensible!"

"Gotta work every angle I've got, babe." he returned unrepentantly. "You over think things enough for the both of us. C'mon..." he trailed his lips down her throat and she tilted her head to grant him better access. He felt her go limp and pliant in his arms and he grinned victoriously against her collarbone.

"Yo Boss, you coming down this century?" It was Steve's voice this time that echoed up the stairs and Puck groaned.

"Fucking fired," he mumbled into neck, "every fucking one of them." He pressed a kiss at the soft patch of skin just underneath her ear, feeling her shiver as he drew back. Rachel's face reflected her own dissatisfaction and she ran her hand down the front of his shirt, smoothing out an invisible wrinkle and prolonging contact with his body. That at least gave Puck some hope that she wasn't second guessing this anymore, like he feared she might.

"You should go," she said finally when they had just gazed at each other in silence for one long minute. He ran his hand over his scalp and nodded wordlessly, discouraged. As he headed for the door, he adjusted himself in his pants and sighed unhappily, vowing to cut off both Steve and Lenny's dicks so they hadn't a hope in hell of satisfying their women either.

Rachel chewed her lip as she watched him go, battling with her sense of logic and the longing coursing through her body. She'd been thinking about this for days now and had drafted dozens of pro/con lists in her head in relation to resuming a sexual relationship with Noah, but really, it was hardly a difficult decision to make.

"Noah!" She called out to him just as his hand touched the doorknob and he spun back around so fast, he almost toppled over from the centripetal force of the movement.

"Yeah?" There was no mistaking the eagerness in his tone.

She licked her suddenly dry lips and swallowed nervously before speaking. "I might hang around home today, the weather has gotten quite cool this week and it seems quite chilly out," she confided, almost shyly.

He had crossed quickly back to her side in an instant and curled his palm around her neck, bringing her in for a lengthy kiss. "Probably a good idea," he said gruffly against her lips, his eyes conveying that he had caught on to the silent message underlined in her words. "Don't want you catching a cold."

She nodded in agreement and flashed him a small smile. "So maybe, if you have time, you could come up for lunch?" she suggested tentatively, her fingers unconsciously clenching and unclenching fistfuls of his shirt.

"We are busy today," he admitted, but when her face fell, he added quickly, "But I gotta eat so yeah, I'll come up." He kissed her again, gentler this time, and when Steve's voice once again sounded a few seconds later, they parted and Puck's expression was thunderous.

"Go," Rachel giggled and ineffectively tried to push him away, "I'll still be here when you find the time to take a break," she promised.

"I shouldn't have to schedule time with you," he grumbled brushing a strand of dark hair away from her eyes, "It's my fucking business, I should be able to take a few hours off during the day if I need to."

"You should," she agreed supportively, "but we're expensive," she made a joke as she took his hand and pressed it to her stomach, knowing he hated the fact that he was effectively having to choose between work and her, when they had basically just agreed (without voicing the actual words) to start having sex again. "You have to work so you can feed us." She reminded him with a smile, attempting to make it easier for him to accept he had to put his work commitments first.

He grinned at that and felt all kinds of awesome, knowing that he _was_ taking care of them, and doing a pretty fucking decent job of it, if he did say so himself. "Eight dollar blueberries, don't remind me," he teased. Instantly, he felt a little better about having to leave her which was what Rachel had intended. He brushed his nose against hers and pecked her on the lips one last time. "I'll see you later," he promised as he reluctantly backed away, holding her gaze until his back hit the doorframe and he turned to leave the room.

When he was out of view, Rachel slumped back against the dresser and listened to him bark something at Steve who must have been waiting for him at the top of the stairs, his tone gruff and irritated. She sighed, feeling her heart still beating wildly in her chest and the dull ache of unfulfilled desire pulsing between her thighs. She looked down, her hand still resting on her bump. "Well baby, it looks like it's just you and me..."

***/***

Rachel took a second shower mid morning after she had flittered restlessly around the apartment waiting for Puck to reappear, pausing every five seconds to listen attentively when she thought she heard the stairs creak. She felt warm all over and her skin was tingling in anticipation of his touch, and eventually the waiting and nervous expectancy of it all got too much. She washed and dried her hair needlessly, the action merely a distraction, keeping her hands occupied so she didn't reach for the phone and call Quinn to confess what a wreck she was at the thought of making love to the man who had impregnated her months ago.

Quinn would be happy for her, she knew, and they had been discussing sex and Noah just the other day when Rachel had mentioned how her hormones were betraying her and she didn't know how much longer she could go without begging him to release her tension in the best way he knew how. But Rachel didn't want to kiss and tell. She wanted to keep this shift in her relationship with Puck to herself, just for a little while, to simply enjoy the way his smile made her stomach flip and the way his hands made her breath catch, without having to discuss and dissect it, as women (and Kurt) were prone to do.

When she had curled the ends of her hair, applied a layer of mascara to her eyelashes and a swipe of lip gloss to her mouth, she dabbed her perfume strategically behind her ear, at the base of her throat and between her breasts. Nodding in satisfaction at her reflection, she then wrapped herself in Puck's bathrobe – last years Hanukkah gift from his mother that had sat forgotten in his closet until Rachel had discovered it – and wandered into the kitchen, feeling marginally hungry.

As she munched on a stick of celery and perused the contents of the fridge, she replayed her conversation with Noah that morning in her head and was then struck by the sudden inspiration to make him something for lunch. She wasn't sure where the urge came from, but she suspected it might have stemmed from the fact that the night before, when she had been lingering over the delicious lamb curry he had made for dinner (yes her hunger for red meat had proved to be more than a once-off craving, causing her Vegan-friendly lifestyle to become nothing but a distant memory), she had wished she had the skills in the kitchen to be able to surprise him with something equally as yummy and hearty when he finished work in the evenings.

As she went through the pantry taking stock of the items at her disposal, she discovered that her limited cooking expertise meant that her offering would be comprised of grilled cheese sandwiches and maybe (at a stretch) tomato soup. Luckily her predominate craving for all things tomato during the early stages of her pregnancy made her lunch menu seem particularly appetizing, and she reached for one of the soup cans she had purchased that week that was sitting neatly on the third shelf.

She hummed the opening number of _Fame_ as she sat a small saucepan and a frypan on the stove, and went hunting for a can opener. She placed a cutting board and a knife next to the hotplates, with a loaf of fresh bread and a packet of white cheddar lined up ready to prepare the sandwiches, and emptied the contents of the soup can into the saucepan.

Feeling a sense of accomplishment, Rachel made sure the burners were on low to heat the soup and warm the frypan for the sandwiches, and then glanced at the clock. She panicked when she saw it was close to 12:30 and rushed to the bedroom to change before Noah came up – it was usually around this time that he took his break and she wanted to be ready for him.

Standing in front of the closet, surveying the contents of her wardrobe, Rachel quickly discovered that the task of dressing herself was not going to be as simple as she might have initially assumed. She furrowed her eyebrows in concentration as she inspected and dismissed each and every item, deeming them either too tight, too loose, too itchy or too hideously last season.

Rachel was talking to herself, grumbling and scowling into the depths of the closet when she felt two strong arms encircle her waist. She jumped and spun around to find Puck grinning down at her. "Noah!"

"Whatcha doing?" he asked innocently, glancing around at the piles of clothing lying over the floor. "Going somewhere?"

"No," she glared at the discarded garments as if they had personally offended her, too distracted and irritated to detect and react to the predatory glint that shone from his hazel gaze and the noticeable bulge he was already sporting. "I was trying to find something to wear, but I have nothing!"

His eyes flicked down over the bathrobe swamping her tiny frame before his arm tightened around her waist and his gaze followed hers. "Nothing?" he repeated dubiously. "Babe, there's like a dozen outfits on the ground there."

"They don't fit," she claimed, "and they weren't-" she stopped abruptly.

"Weren't what?" His brow was furrowed and he watched closely as she flushed and her mouth shut with an audible click of teeth. "Rach?"

She sighed and looked up at him, deciding there was no use in avoiding the topic when the look in his eyes told her exactly what he had come up here for - it was after all, the very reason she had been agonizing over her choice in clothing; she'd wanted something that afforded him easy access but didn't make her look as though she was packing a beach ball underneath her sweater.

"They weren't sexy enough," she supplied quietly, refusing to look at him.

"Sexy enough?" he repeated lowly, tugging her a little closer.

"That's what I said!" her eyes widened even as she snapped at him, and she clasped her hand over her mouth in horror, her expression apologetic. "I'm sorry," she splayed her fingers so her words weren't so muffled he couldn't make them out. "I'm just frustrated,"

He smirked at her, used to her sudden mood swings by now, and arched his eyebrow. She rolled her eyes in response to his automatic assumption that she meant sexually; his supposition wasn't completely incorrect.

Puck tugged her hands away from her mouth to nip at her lips and she sighed again, "I just wanted to look nice," she told him unhappily. "But suddenly I can't fasten the buttons on any of my pants and the zippers on my skirts wont go up…" She gazed down at her stomach and rested both her hands on her bump. Tears welled up in her eyes as she gave it a gentle caress, feeling guilty for resenting the visible swell that was indicative of the life growing inside her. "I feel fat," she whispered miserably.

"Aww baby," Rachel immediately found herself swept up into his arms and she gratefully pressed her face into his shirt and suppressed a sob. "You're not fat." She made a scoffing sound and wrenched her chin out of his grip when he tried to tilt it so he could look at her.

"Hey," he bent his knees and pushed his face right in front of hers so she had no choice but to look him directly in the eye. "You're not fat," he reiterated. "You're pregnant, and just barely at that." She didn't feel 'barely pregnant'. She was in her 15th week and thanks to the cool fall weather, her bump was almost always disguised by heavy coats and scarves and not all that obvious to people who weren't aware of her condition, but to someone who had buying from the petite section nearly all her life, the 10 pounds she had put on so far felt like 40.

"You're all belly and boob," Puck told her, grinning and resting his hands over hers. "It's hot and awesome; it's awesome hot," he decided.

She choked back a laugh and sniffled, "Do you still find me attractive?" she asked pathetically her brown eyes wet and doleful.

Now it was his turn to roll his eyes, "Are you fucking serious?" He wondered incredulously. "Have you forgotten this morning already? S'been fucking torture keeping my hands off you for the last couple of weeks, 'cause seeing you pregnant with my kid is like visual Viagra to me. I want you all the damn time, so let's skip this part where you act all insecure and I fuck it up worse by saying the wrong thing, and fast forward to where I show you just how much you turn me on – baby belly and all. Quit crying woman, and get naked." He tugged teasingly on the tie of her robe and she offered him a watery smile.

"I'm serious," he was still smiling, but the second tug he gave the tie was more insistent, showing he wasn't joking at all about the getting her naked part, not even a little. "I'm raring to go, baby. Tick, tock we're wasting time here!"

Her tears evaporated as quickly as they had come, and as he brushed against her, her hormones kicked in and instantly her body was on red alert, eager to pick up where they left off earlier. She looked up at him almost coyly, insecurities forgotten, and stepped up to his body, trailing her fingers down his chest and then lower still until her hand rested on his belt buckle.

"Hell yes, this is more like it," he muttered approvingly, capturing her lips. She kissed him back enthusiastically, sliding his belt free of the loops on his jeans while his hands slid underneath her hair to grasp her neck. As his tongue plunged deeper into her mouth, Rachel moaned lowly and pushed up on her tip toes to get closer to him. A second later, the squealing of the fire alarm had them jumping apart and staring at each other in shock.

"What the fuck-" he started to question.

Panic overtook her momentary confusion and she pushed past him and raced to the kitchen. "Lunch!" she explained over her shoulder, hearing the heavy tread of his booted footsteps as he hurried after her.

The forgotten, empty frying pan was smouldering on the stove, but the pot of soup was ruined beyond repair — thick, black plumes rose from it, the acrid smell making Rachel's nose wrinkle and her eyes water. "Oh no," she moaned, looking around frantically for a pot holder or an oven mitt and seeing neither. "No, no, no, no!"

Puck was right behind her and he reached past her to the stove and turned off the burners, pushing her gently out of the way as he grabbed a nearby dish towel and moved the smoking pots off the hot elements.

"Fucking hell," he muttered as Rachel threw open the back door. The fall breeze that blew through the kitchen felt arctic in comparison to her heated skin. "What the hell _was_ that?" He demanded in morbid fascination, staring into the sink where he'd dropped the pot with a clatter.

Rachel returned to his side and took the towel from him, peeking over his shoulder into the scalded soup pot. "Tomato soup?" she offered weakly. The sudden urge to cry bubbled up and she brushed back her tears with a frustrated little pout. "I was making you lunch."

Puck stared at her in astonishment before throwing his head back to laugh, but instead of recognizing the hilarity of the situation and cracking a smile, his mirth only made Rachel feel worse. An angry surge replaced the tears that had yet to spill down her cheeks and she glared at him, throwing the towel back at him and stomping her bare foot.

"What are you makin' me soup for, babe?" Puck asked, dodging the airborne tea towel with smooth dexterity. "I don't even like soup."

"I was bored," she mumbled by way of explanation. She crossed her arms over her chest and looked balefully at him, wounded that he found this all so amusing. "I was just trying to do something nice for you."

He walked the few steps across the kitchen to wrap his arms around her before hiding his smile in her hair. "Well thanks, I guess. But you don't have to go to so much trouble just for me. I can slap together a sandwich myself - it only takes a second - and the risk of my kitchen burning to the ground is a lot less likely."

She frowned into the motor oil stains on the front of his shirt, annoyed when his broad chest continued to shake with the occasional chuckle. "It's not funny," she muttered mutinously.

"It's a _little_ funny," Puck contradicted, cupping her face in his hands and tilting her chin up until she looked at him. "So, you were dressing to seduce me but you thought you'd feed me first?" he teased. "That's very considerate of you, babe."

Finally she managed a small smile and was just beginning to relax in his arms and admit that yes, maybe she was being a tad ridiculous, when he pressed on. "How can you fuck up soup anyway?" he wondered, not quite ready to let it go just yet. "The burner wasn't even on all that high. How'd you manage that disaster?"

"I don't _know_," she whined petulantly, vowing never to do anything nice for him again since he obviously didn't appreciate the gesture. "I opened the can and slopped it into the pot," she recounted, "and then turned the burner onto low while I went to change; I was only gone a few minutes, there must be something wrong with the stove." She wouldn't accept any other explanation.

He looked over her shoulder to where the empty soup can sat on the counter. "Did you put water in with it?" he asked. "Or milk?"

She levelled him with a look of utter bewilderment that plainly stated that she did neither of those things. "It's soup, Noah. It's already liquid."

He couldn't help it, he laughed harder and Rachel huffed and tried to push him away. He refused to let her go though, tightening his arm around her lower back to keep her pressed up against his body. "They make it concentrated to fit in the little cans, baby." He told her with an affectionate grin, "You've got to add water to it and stir. Didn't you think it was a little thick? Didn't you bother to read the label?"

She didn't answer him; she just pouted some more. The hurt faded but it was quickly replaced by an acute sense of stupidity, and that was worse.

Puck leaned down and kissed her, nipping at her protruding bottom lip. "You're so hot when you're angry," he teased. "You wanna give dinner a shot and burn that too?"

She squinted at him and fixed him with an unforgiving glare. "If you don't stop laughing at me, I'm going to kick you somewhere that will hurt," she threatened seriously, "severely decreasing your chances of engaging in anything even remotely close to intercourse."

He sobered, because even joking about kicking a dude in the junk was serious stuff, and whispered that he was sorry. His hands wove into her hair, keeping her still as he kissed her apologetically, but the curve of his lips indicated that he was still amused.

Rachel tried to resist, but when he bit down gently on her lower lip and ran his tongue soothingly over the gentle slope of it, she melted; uncrossing her arms, she grabbed a fistful of his shirt and pulled him closer, unable to put up much more of a fight. He made her dizzy instantly- the good kind of dizzy, not the pre-breakfast nauseating dizzy that still sometimes plagued her in the mornings.

"It's a good thing I'm not that hungry. I only planned on having you for lunch anyway," Puck said against her mouth, trapping her between his body and the counter. His knee parted the folds of her robe and he pressed forward; she felt the hardness of his erection straining against his jeans, and as he ground against her, the friction of his zipper against her panties made her cry out. Soup forgotten, she clung helplessly to him, hitching her leg high around his waist as she perched on her tip toes, rocking her hips desperately against him, needing _more_.

His hand came down to grip her thigh and hold her in place, helping her keep her balance, and the calloused tips of his fingers stroking the back of her legs was enough to generate sparks of electricity from that spot and send them coursing through her veins.

"You smell and you're filthy," she murmured into his ear as he attacked her neck. She didn't even know why she was bothering to voice a half-hearted protest. She wanted this - as clearly indicated by her behavior only minutes ago, when she'd gone straight to removing his belt. She'd thought about nothing else all morning since his fingers had stroked her surely through her panties. To leave her like that, half naked and aroused, was cruelty in its purest form, even if he'd had virtually no choice.

"Get used to it, baby. Everything about me is dirty." His voice was pure sex and she shuddered in response. "You though, you're like, shiny clean."

"I just showered," she whispered breathlessly, turning her head when she felt his lips leave her collarbone, her mouth searching frantically for his.

Puck groaned and his fingers dug into her leg as he thrust against her, his cock restrained and protesting, aching to get at her. "I know," he said thickly. "You're all soft and warm and you smell fucking amazing." He nuzzled into her throat, his teeth nipping her pulse point. "I'm glad you couldn't find anything to wear. This is a good look for you." His hand tucked into the lapels of her robe and his fingers skimmed down her sternum until he reached the knot at her midsection that he tugged at impatiently until it came undone and the robe fell open.

"You just like that there's hardly anything to strip off me," she replied knowingly and he shrugged unrepentantly. His lips hovered over hers as he pushed it off her shoulders and the heavy terrycloth slid from her shower-warmed skin to pool at her feet, leaving her clad only in a black cotton tank top and a matching pair of boy shorts – the kind that made her ass look ten kinds of awesome.

The frigid air blowing through the kitchen from the open back door made her shiver and she wrapped herself around him for warmth as goose bumps broke out across her flesh. The greedy glint in his eyes made her knees weak, and she was practically vibrating with the expectation of what she knew was coming next, "Please tell me you don't have to go back to work soon," she begged, closing her eyes as his large palm skimmed underneath her tank top and cupped her breast, teasing her sensitised peak.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Puck growled. "I've been hard all day, thinking about this morning. I've been pissed, biting everyone's head off - I'm not going anywhere till I fuck you like I should have earlier. S'been torture knowing you were up here, horny as hell and probably thinking about me,"

She laughed breathlessly, arching into his touch. "I was thinking about you," she admitted. "I was hoping you'd come back up here and take me to the bedroom where you could finish what you started."

"M'gonna," he promised, "But it's not going to be in the bedroom, babe, too far away." His lips trailed down her neck while one hand held her firmly by the waist, the other caressing her breast with a practiced ease – his hands were amazing.

"_Here_?" Rachel opened her eyes and glanced around the kitchen. The countertops were scattered with dishes waiting to be washed, dried and put away. She hadn't quite got around to cleaning up after her breakfast and then there was the disastrous lunch attempt to contend with.

"What? Don't tell me you've never done it in the kitchen?" Puck taunted, his hand moving to capture her other breast, lavishing it with the same attention he's been giving its twin. Her mind automatically tried to think back over the places she'd had sex, with the handful of partners she'd had over the years, but it was difficult to concentrate with the rough pads of Puck's thumbs stroking her nipples slowly and deliberately. And she didn't want to think about anyone other than him anyway, especially now.

"I can't say I've spent much time in the kitchen," she confessed haggardly, letting out a squeak of surprise when he lifted her and perched her on the edge of the counter top.

"I noticed," he whispered huskily in her ear. "There's $100 bucks worth of ruined saucepans corroborating that story."

"I _am_ trying," she pointed out, but it was hard to sound miffed with Puck kissing that spot behind her ear that made her insides melt.

"So am I, baby, but you keep interrupting."

She giggled as he rained kisses along her jaw, wrapping both legs around his waist and digging her foot into the back of his thigh, urging him to thrust against her again. "How long do we have? Won't someone come looking for you?" she panted, tugging at the short strands of hair at the base of his neck, wondering how much time she would have him to herself. It didn't matter though; it would never be long enough. The rough scratch of his stubble along the underside of her chin made her squirm restlessly and if she didn't have him inside her within the next few minutes, she was sure she would just die from the injustice of it all.

"Fuck them," Puck uttered with feeling, leaning back slightly so he could tug her tank top over her head. "They can deal with the garage themselves, I'm busy." His hands drifted down from her breasts to her hips as he kissed her, delving into her mouth and drawing a loud moan from her as his tongue slid against hers. His palm lingered on her belly and she felt him stroke her bump gently, even as his tongue licked and plunged in a manner that was erotic and sensual, and decidedly not as innocent as the light touch of his fingers would suggest.

"It's safe right?" He confirmed, protectively splaying his hand over her bump.

Rachel nodded, her nose rubbing against hers. It was sweet that he was concerned about the baby, but now was not the time for her to get sentimental. She took to the task of unbuttoning his shirt with nimble fingers and he helped her by shrugging out of it and then yanking his undershirt over his head.

She giggled again as Puck's hands returned to her hips and then moved slowly over the curve of her ass. Her legs spread wider apart and she leaned back, bracing her palms against the counter as her back arched and her breasts thrust towards the ceiling.

"You're a fucking vision, did you know that?" he questioned reverently as he took a moment to gaze at her, all soft skin and gentle curves. She was perfection in this tiny little package and it felt like forever since he'd had her naked. It was strange how they'd only done this a handful of times, yet her body was so familiar to him, like he'd been gazing and marvelling over it all his life. Puck noted the changes that he contributed to her pregnancy; the fuller bust size, the slight thickening around her waist and the firm little bump that his hands kept straying to – he'd thought that night in the hotel room that she was the most beautiful woman to ever lay naked before him, and that assessment was only more accurate now. "Fucking fat, whatever," he muttered to himself, recalling her earlier meltdown and deciding right then and there that she was certifiably insane. "Fucking bullshit - so fucking gorgeous…"

"Am I?" Her breath was coming loud and fast as his fingers moved over her pubic bone and stroked the inside of her thigh. She bit her lip every time his caresses neared the juncture of her legs and let out a strangled sigh of disappointment when he ghosted over her panties to stroke the other thigh.

"Noah," his name was more of a curse than a word. "You're going to kill me." He chuckled lazily and dipped his fingers lower; they moaned in unison as he pushed her panties aside and ran his finger over her slit, discovering just how wet and ready she was for him.

Vaguely, she heard the distinct sound of a zipper being lowered, but the sensation of his fingers against her clit distracted her until the blunt head of his hard cock pressed between her legs. "Your panties have to go, Rach."

She couldn't agree more, and readily unwound her legs from his waist and lifted her hips so he could drag the sodden material down her legs. She pushed his jeans and boxers down in one fluid motion until they were hanging around his knees and then pulled him back towards her, impatient to have him fill her completely.

"Rachel," Puck groaned at the wild, hungry look in her eyes and tugged her hips forward - as close to the edge as he could - and then he was finally pushing inside her. The slick heat of her pussy clenched greedily around him, drawing him in, and she almost sobbed in relief; it had been far too long.

"God, yes," she choked, wrapping her legs back around his waist and pushing back against him until he was fully sheathed inside her. "Noah…feels so good."

He hummed in agreement and kissed her roughly, "Fuck yeah it does," he didn't even want to move, he was good like this, just buried inside her as far as he could go. Eventually though, he drew his hips back and Rachel could feel his muscles in his arms bulge under her hands as he tensed, preparing to plunge back into her, but the ill timed explosion of the chorus to DemFranchizeBoys' 'Stop calling me' from deep within the pocket of the jeans hanging around his feet, once again startled them both.

"Fuck!" caught off guard, his next thrust was sloppy and he tipped forward, bumping his head awkwardly against her chin. Rachel grunted in pain and tightened her arms around his neck as he mumbled an apology and soothingly kissed the spot he'd connected with.

"What is that?" She panted in confusion, automatically rolling her hips and taking him as deep as she could.

"Phone," he answered shortly, planning to ignore it. "My Ma," He made a circular motion with his hips before withdrawing and thrusting back in, harder this time to make up for the last botched attempt. He squeezed her ass and pulled her down against him until his pubic bone was bumping firmly against hers. They were as close as two people could be, with barely enough space between their bodies to slide a piece of paper between.

The ring tone was distracting to say the least, and it didn't seem to want to end. Puck cursed again and this time, he pulled all of the way out.

"NO!" Rachel protested vehemently when he bent down, out of her reach. She ran her hands restlessly through her hair and gave him a little kick in the ribs to illustrate her displeasure.

"Hang tight baby," he covered her foot with his hand to prevent her from kicking him again, while he reached down into his pocket with the other one and retrieved his cell, flicking the switch on the side to silence the volume and throwing it across the counter with a clatter. "Now," he grasped her hips again and arching his eyebrow as he aligned himself with her entrance. "Where were we?"

Her face was scrunched up and her fingers were curled into her palm as she reigned in the impulse to slap him for abandoning her. He silenced whatever insult he was sure she was preparing to throw at him with his mouth and slid back into her smoothly, pressing his fingers to her clit. Her anger diminished and her eyes rolled back into her head as she broke their kiss with a harsh whimper and fell bonelessly forward to clutch at his shoulders, "Ohhhh…"

Puck chuckled as he rendered her speechless, and was just about to employ his signature rub-thrust-swivel move when the ringing of the home line once again interrupted them.

"Oh my god, you have GOT to be kidding me," she moaned in disbelief, dropping her forehead to his shoulder when his movement stilled. Her chest heaved as she suppressed a sob of frustration and he ran his hand comfortingly down her spine and glared at the cordless phone on the wall, as if he could will it to stop ringing by the weight of his stare alone – or somehow blow it up like Cyclops would in X-men.

"Ignore it," he urged, rocking against her and kissing her hard. "C'mon, baby." But despite his suggestion, it was once again Puck that was stopping when the answering machine picked up and his mother's nasal voice came screeching down the line, claiming she knew he was there - she'd just rang the garage and Steve had told her he was on break, having lunch upstairs, with his _girlfriend_.

"A girlfriend Noah Puckerman?" she was yelling, "Since when have you had a girlfriend? And is she the reason you and Rebecca have been suspiciously evasive, not answering any of my calls?" The woman's voice could be equated to the scratching of nails down a chalkboard, that's how grating it was. "You pick up the phone right now young man," she threatened, "or I'll be on the next plane bound for JFK, to see for myself what exactly is going on down there."

Puck's reaction to his mother's intrusion was immediate and he looked down to where their bodies were joined, feeling his cock soften, "No! Fucking...NO!" He gave another small thrust and then pulled all the way out, reaching down and giving his penis a firm tug, closing his fist over it and pumping twice. Nothing.

"Noah?"

He closed his eyes in humiliation, "This is not happening," he muttered, horrified. "It's not."

He felt her legs drop from his waist and he looked up at her imploringly. She was smiling bravely but there was no hiding her growing agitation. Puck glanced down at her glistening sex and groaned. "Babe-" He might be temporarily out of the game but as he reached out to touch her, he reasoned that there was nothing stopping him from getting her off while he enticed his boys back into play. Rachel pushed his hands away and shook her head, closing her thighs as though it pained her to do so. It did.

"You should talk to your mother," she said quietly, hopping gracefully down from the counter and reaching for her discarded robe, doing her best to ignore Mrs Puckerman in the background who was musing out loud on what could possibly be wrong with her son's mystery girlfriend that would make him too ashamed to admit to his mother that he was dating her – it was a brilliant ploy really, designed to incense the listener into picking up the phone.

He grabbed her before she could cover herself up and pressed his face into her back, his mother's voice still droning on in the background. "M'sorry 'bout her, don't go. This is bullshit; you can't just walk away when I'm in the middle of fucking you."

Rachel turned around and smiled again, kissing him quickly before reluctantly stepping out of his embrace. The mood had drastically altered and he knew immediately that the moment was over, at least for now; they wouldn't be having sex while his mother was phone stalking him.

"It's ok," Rachel was claiming, though it wasn't. "It's obviously very important she talk to you, right away. She's right – you haven't been answering her calls, and you haven't got around to telling her about the baby yet."

He looked away from her probing glance. That was true; he hadn't gotten around to telling his mother he'd managed to knock up _another_ chick he hadn't officially been dating at the time. But that was only because he couldn't figure out whether to slip the 100% Jewish grandkid part in before or after he mentioned that Rachel had been married to another man at the time of conception, and in fact, still was - they were working on the whole divorce thing.

Besides, she hadn't exactly filled her dads in on their situation either. She claimed that they were difficult to get in contact with, being that they were on a cruise in the middle of the Mediterranean and all, and that she couldn't tell them about her separation, upcoming divorce and the fact that she was about to make them grandparents for the very first time in a few lines of an email. Puck wondered though if she was just worried they'd be disappointed in the choices she'd made for herself.

"We can finish this later." Rachel determined, reaching for the cordless handset and tossing it to him. He caught the phone deftly and maintained eye contact with her as he slowly pressed the talk button and effectively cut off the answering machine so Rachel could no longer hear his mother's insufferable bitching about being purposely kept out of the loop. He was half naked, still horny and fucking pissed. "Ma," he bit out harshly, "the fuck do you want?"

Rachel's eyes widened at the tone he took with his mother, but privately she thought Mrs Puckerman deserved it – it was just the sexual frustration talking and she might feel horrible about the churlishness of her thoughts later, but Rachel thought that if she never met the Puckerman matriarch again, it would be too soon. Puck covered the mouthpiece with his hand as she tied the robe securely around her waist and gave her a look so intense it made her toes curl.

"Five o'clock," he said hotly, his eyes making all sorts of promises to her that would make up for this interruption, and she knew he would make good on all of them – providing they could secure the alone time. "I want you laying naked on our bed at five, we're doing this; I don't care who phones, who's banging on the fucking bedroom door - _whatever_. I want to be buried balls deep in you until we're both fucking _spent_." Rachel bit her lip and nodded slightly, her hungry gaze roaming over his bare chest one last time as he yanked his pants back up and scowled at whatever his mother was saying on the other end of the line. She resisted the urge to eavesdrop and turned away, forced herself to retreat and give him some privacy.

She felt his stare burning into her back as she quickly exited the kitchen and made for the bathroom for her third shower of the day – this time, she turned the faucet all the way to cold and dropped her head against the frigid tile. It was going to be a long afternoon.


	15. Desperate Times, Desperate Measures

Rachel was sitting on the edge of the bed at quarter to five, fidgeting nervously and glancing at the slightly ajar bedroom door every so often, sighing in impatience each time she failed to see Noah's body framed in the doorway. She wasn't naked as he had requested, but instead had on a white and pink baby doll slip that was cut generously at the front, conveniently accommodating her growing baby bump. The filmy material stretched over her stomach and fell softly to mid thigh and the neckline was cut low enough to display an impressive amount of her new found cleavage in a way she was sure Puck would appreciate. She had her iPod playing quietly in the background and had set the mood by drawing the curtains, lighting a few scattered candles around the room, and had even gone to the trouble of changing the sheets that afternoon - all she needed now was Noah.

At ten minutes to five the back door opened and Rachel sat up straight as she heard a multitude of voices sound - out of the collective laughter and teasing banter, she couldn't make out the deep timber of Noah's voice, and she frowned. She crept to the door and peeked out, watching as Becca exited the kitchen with about six other teenagers her own age, two other girls and four boys, who proceeded to make themselves comfortable in the living room, throwing their lanky frames into beanbags, armchairs and the large sofa opposite the flat screen.

Rachel quietly shut the bedroom door and stared blankly around the room. With a sinking feeling in her gut that whispered that the appearance of these teenage meant her interlude with Noah was effectively thwarted, she quickly pulled on a pair of sweat pants and her yoga sweater, zipping it part of the way up over her negligee, and stuffed her bare feet into Ugg boots, before walking slowly into the living room.

"Becca?"

Rebecca turned and smiled at her, "Oh hey Rachel, I didn't know you were home. Everybody, this is the chick I was telling you about, the one my brother knocked up. Rachel, this is everybody." Becca waved her hand in the direction of the assembled group of teenagers and Rachel gave them a small smile as they regarded her with expressions ranging from curiosity (the boys) to open hostility (the girls). She dreaded to think what Rebecca had been telling them about her and about her and Noah's situation in general.

"Um, what is everyone doing here?" Rachel asked, careful to keep her tone neutral so as not to offend the younger girl. Their interaction with each other was still very tentative and Rachel was wary of saying anything that would put strain on their recent truce and ruin the progress they had made in establishing a relationship with each other. She knew Noah was proud of them for finding some common ground the night Rachel had extended an olive branch to Rebecca in the form of a four thousand dollar formal dress, and she didn't want to do anything to jeopardize the situation and disappoint him.

"Study group," Rebecca had replied, holding up a DVD, "We're reading War of the Worlds in our English Lit class and we thought we'd watch the film and toss around some ideas in relation to the discussion points for our essays. I asked Noah if it was ok yesterday, and he said it was totally fine as long as he wasn't expected to feed us. We're going to order pizza later - didn't he tell you?"

Rachel shook her head and tried to force a smile again, but she had a feeling she failed at the attempt. Rebecca's frown a second later only confirmed that. "Is there a problem?" she asked, her eyes narrowing slightly.

_Yes,__a__rather__big__one_, Rachel thought to herself but she shook her head again. "No, of course not."

Rebecca's eyes travelled over Rachel's attire and her gaze stopped thoughtfully on the expanse of negligee that peeked out from under her sweatshirt. A slow smirk spread across her face as she looked back at Rachel's almost crestfallen expression, and quickly pieced two and two together. "We're not cramping your style or anything, are we Rach? Do you have anything going on here that I should know about?" A couple of the other kids laughed and the suggestive lilt in Rebecca's tone made Rachel flush.

"Absolutely not!" she denied vehemently, turning away abruptly to hide her glowing cheeks from view. "I'll just pop downstairs and remind Noah about your plans for tonight. I fear he may have forgotten all about them."

Rebecca watched her go, her smirk now a full fledged grin. "You do that," she advised, amused, as she turned back to her friends.

Rachel stomped down the stairs, her frustration mounting with every step until she reached the garage. Puck was backing his truck into the space between Mrs Catalano's Ford and a beaten up red convertible and she waited off to the side until he had parked and turned off the engine, before continuing towards him. His face registered surprise when he caught sight of her.

"Babe, what are you doing down here? I kicked Lenny and Steve out fifteen minutes ago; I was just on my way up."

"Change of plans," she informed him shortly. Puck's eyebrow rose at her tone. "There are half a dozen teenagers currently congregated in our living room."

"What?" He looked about as annoyed as she felt. "Tell them to fuck off."

Rachel crossed her arms and tapped her foot testily, "I can't, because apparently _you_ said it was ok if Becca hosted her study group tonight." She was glaring at him as if he had done so purely to irritate her, which was absurd if she stopped to think about it, but she wasn't in a reasonable frame of mind just then.

"Well that was before, obviously." Puck replied, walking over to the garage door and pulling on the chain that would lower the roller door. "Too fucking bad now, we've got plans. Sex trumps study in my book, especially when I'm the one doing the sexing. They can go to the library or something."

She uncrossed her arms and threw them in the air, "So what? You're just going to go up there and throw them out?" she demanded skeptically.

He turned around and gave her a look that told her he didn't know why she was so pissed at him, but her attitude was grating on his nerves. "Yeah, so? It's my fucking apartment, what do you want me to do? And why the hell are you giving me the evil eye? I'm not the one cock blocking a sure thing."

She knew she was being completely unfair and her shoulders slumped as some of her anger abated. "I'm sorry, I'm just-" She drew in a deep breath to calm herself as he walked towards her and when he came to stand in front of her, she looked up, sighing unhappily. "We can't kick them out. Rebecca's only just starting to warm up to me, and if you go up there and embarrass her in front of her friends, who do you think she's going to be upset with?"

Puck just grunted; she made a valid point.

"So what, we put this off _again_?" He slumped against the side of his truck and regarded her broodingly. "S'fucking bullshit, Rach."

"No," she gave him a slow smile, one that was coy and just dirty enough to have his cock twitching in gleeful anticipation. Rachel shook her head and stepped right into his personal space, tugging his shirt out of his pants. "Strip," she instructed, answering his silent question with tiny, eager hands.

His eyes widened at her authoritativeness and he just stood there, stunned as she brushed suggestively over the hardening bulge in his pants, and went to work on his belt buckle. Puck could only suck in a breath and shake his head; his hand reaching down to cover hers and stop her progress, "Hold up a second, baby, please."

"Why?" She was beginning to perfect the art of the pout, and he had to force himself not to smile at how adorable she looked, so she knew he was trying to be serious.

"We're in the garage," he pointed out needlessly. "We can't have sex down here."

Her face cleared of her momentary confusion, "Of course we can," she dismissed, shrugging off his hand and successfully unfastening his belt. "It might echo down here of course, so we'll just have to be quiet so they don't hear us upstairs."

He wasn't worried about that; there was a layer of soundproofing three feet thick in between the roof and the apartment. "Rachel," she stopped again at the gravity of his tone, and her eyebrows rose in exasperation, seeing him shake his head again.

"Seriously?" Her hands found her hips and she glared at him. "What? What is your problem?"

He didn't even recognize the package of crazy that was standing before him; she was bossy and impatient and more than a little bitchy – even when they were younger and she had flounced around in those tiny little skirts, claiming pompously that she was going to make it out of that cow town and be a star, Rachel had never been downright _nasty_. She looked as if she was gearing for a fight and Puck was determined not to give it to her.

He continued to hold her gaze and let his thumb brush gently over her cheek. "I don't want to do this here, I want to do this in a bed," he explained, "I wanna take my time, I wanna make it special for you."

She blinked once - her mouth dropping open in surprise - and then laughed. He felt an unfamiliar heat rise in his face and he swore he felt his dick shrink a little in response to her uncharacteristic ridicule. When he frowned and dropped his hand, Rachel covered her mouth to stifle her giggles and threaded her fingers in his belt loops to prevent him from moving away when she realized he was actually legitimately offended by her laughter.

"Oh Noah, I'm sorry." There was the woman he knew; her amusement faded and she looked genuinely horrified by the possibility that she may have upset him. "I didn't mean to laugh, I just don't understand-"

It was too late though, his anger had already made an appearance. "What? You don't understand that I don't want our first time since-" he stopped and made a general movement with his hands that was meant to convey _something_, "to be a quickie up against the fucking tool shelf? That's real nice babe, thanks for thinking I'm a giant asshat."

"Noah-"

"It's disgusting down here," he didn't feel like he needed to justify his reluctance but he did it anyway. "Its fucking freezing and I know the stench of gasoline can't be good for you – so 'scuse me if I think you deserve something a little more comfortable."

Rachel bit her lip, seeing his point but shrugging a little, "That first night we almost didn't make it out of the bathroom of that dive bar," she reminded him quietly, just so the garage suggestion hardly seemed so outrageous, or her willingness to do it there that far out of left field.

"But we didn't," he countered sullenly. "We got a hotel room instead. And you weren't fucking pregnant then."

She felt she couldn't let him use that as an excuse. "What about today in the kitchen then? Or that night in my apartment building, the stairwell…."

He winced, "I was drunk then," he replied, "and that was different,"

She cocked her head to the side and contemplated him, "How?" she wanted to know, genuinely curious.

"I dunno, it just was!" he claimed moodily. "Fuck, it wasn't so real then, you know?" he gestured at her, "Look at you," Rachel obliged by glancing down at herself. "There's our baby, right there. I just want to…" he trailed off, rolling his shoulder restlessly and exhaled nosily, frustrated at his inability to coherently express what he was thinking, "I admit I was thinking with my dick earlier today, but I don't wanna just-"

Rachel stepped closer and tugged on the front of his shirt, "You're sweet," she told him softly, reaching up to kiss him gently. "I love that you want it to mean something more, now that our situation has changed. This time when we come together there are actual feelings involved, because we care about each other and the last time we had sex, _really_ made love, we created a baby."

It figured that she was able to articulate his thoughts better than he could. "I want it to be different too, but Noah, I'm going crazy here." She pulled away and implored him with dark, pleading eyes. "I've been waiting all day. I've been sitting around just thinking about you, thinking about us and how it was between us, and I…" she trailed off and dropped her face into her hands, groaning a little.

He smoothed his hand over her hair and she looked back up at him. "I need to have sex," she said plainly, without an ounce of embarrassment. "_I__need__too_. You were right; my body is so tightly wound, I fear I might snap. We can take it slow later, but right now I'm so restless I can't even think straight." Rachel was shifting from one foot to another, fidgeting, with an expression that was almost pained. "I'm begging you Noah, _please,_ don't make me wait any longer because there's a good chance I might just die!"

He couldn't help but grin at her theatrical declaration, and he tugged her closer, kissing her temple as she closed her eyes, her sigh an entreaty. "Please," she said again, resting her forehead against his shoulder and gripping his arms. He felt her chest rise with the deep intake of her breath. "Please, Noah."

He could see the downward tilt to her lips and the deep crease in her brow, and he had to chuckle, amazed that here she was, employing every tactic she knew how in an attempt to coerce him into having sex with her. That was a first for him, and all kinds of wrong.

"Fine," he pretended to give in grudgingly, tilting her chin up so he could kiss her properly, "But if it's going to be fast now, we're doing it the right way later - like, all night." His tone was challenging, like he was daring her to argue. She met his gaze and nodded eagerly, her smile bright. He kissed her again, finally allowing her to see his own grin.

He shrugged out of his shirt and tugged his wife beater over his head, moving to unclasp the belt buckle she had been wrestling with. Rachel watched him for a moment, her pupils darkening at the sight of his magnificent chest and the fine trail of hair the led from his belly button to the waist band of his jeans and beyond. Her mouth went dry as he unzipped his fly and the sizeable bulge in his boxer briefs was no longer restrained.

"Don't," he reached out to still her fingers as she went to undress herself, and she paused at his command. He left his pants undone and took over from her, lowering the zip on her sweatshirt - gazing appreciatively at the filmy negligee underneath - tugging lightly on the edge but making no move to strip it from her. "Leave it on, its fucking cold."

Her eyes softened as she nodded, curling her hand around his neck and dragging him down so she could kiss him. When they broke apart, he bent down and tugged her sweat pants down her legs and then crouched in front of her, lifting her foot so he could slide her boot off, help her step out of her pants, and then slide the boot back on – not wanting her to stand on bare feet and risk cutting herself on any stray shards of metal or glass that might be laying over the concrete floor. He then repeated the process with the other leg.

He threw her sweatpants over the side of his truck and then, still crouching in front of her, looked up at her to find her watching him in breathless anticipation. He held her gaze as his hands slid up the back of her calves and then his eyes dropped to her panties. Rachel felt her heart stop for just a split second as he licked his lips, and then it was beating away at double time as his thumbs hooked under the waistband, dragging them down her hips in the same path her sweat pants had just taken.

He pocketed those with a wink and then he was pushing her legs apart and leaning his face in closer to drag his tongue over her slit and nuzzle his nose against her entrance, inhaling the sweet and slightly musky scent of her. Just the memory of what his tongue was capable of had her knees wobbling and she clutched the back of his head and tilted her hips as she reminded herself to breathe. She let out a low hiss as he gripped her upper thigh and nudged her legs further apart, delving his tongue into her heat and dragging it up to circle the tight bundle of nerves above her opening.

He hummed and slurped at her clit lightly, slowly dipping his index finger into her, and she bit her lip, whimpering loudly – _fuck_ he loved the sound; he sank his finger in to the second knuckle, hoping to coax it out of her again.

She gasped instead, "Oh, Noah," her involuntary moan was throaty, and Puck groaned against her, his own arousal painfully hard. Her hips twisted subtly, and he slid his finger out, locking his eyes on her and letting her watch as he slowly sucked it into his mouth, tasting her. Rachel licked her own lips, remembering how he had urged her to suck on his fingers and taste herself when he'd pinned her against the wall of the hotel room. He smirked at her, reading in her eyes exactly what she was thinking, and eased his slippery finger back inside her; he gently probed and teased her inner walls, feeling their slick and spongy softness, pressing and wiggling to find the most sensitive spots.

"More," she panted softly, wriggling as his finger teased her. "Noah, please…."

"Relax baby," he murmured, loving the way she gripped his digit inside herself, her head lolling on her shoulders as she shuddered, moaning with each stroke. "You like this?" Those moans grew louder when he slipped a second finger into her, and began massaging along the inside her body, twisting and spreading them, then swirling them about. "You do, don't you?" His voice was seductive, like velvet as it washed over her.

"You know I do, but I need…"

"What baby? Tell me." He gazed up at her as he pressed against the rough patch inside her, and she jerked almost violently.

"Noah, your mouth," she gasped, her grip on his scalp tightening. "Please,"

He didn't hesitate before drawing her clit back into his mouth, fluttering his tongue intermittently against the hardened nub, in between slow, searching thrusts of his fingers inside her. He gradually made the touches lighter and lighter, almost not touching her at all until she whined in protest, feeling her hips press down on his digits, trying to draw him deeper. He grinned in satisfaction, sensing her frustration, and having her just where he wanted her. He sucked hard on her clit then, lashing it with his tongue as his fingers pushed roughly back inside her and it wasn't long until she came in a blinding rush.

"God, Noah…I…" Rachel rocked against his mouth and moaned his name with abandon as the black spots exploded behind her eyelids and her entire body stiffened. His free hand tightened on her ass, holding her up as he continued to piston his fingers in and out of her, lifting his mouth but replacing his lips with his thumb so he could rub gently against her clit as she rode out her orgasm. Eventually his fingers slowed, and when he felt the last of her muscles spasm and her thighs begin to clench together, he removed them completely and kissed her hip before rising to his feet.

Rachel had slumped against the side of the truck and when he gripped her limp hand and led her over to stand in front of the cherry red Sunfire, she went willingly, stumbling only slightly as she tried to regain her sense of equilibrium.

Puck's arms closed around her and she felt him turn and walk her backwards. She was too busy licking the taste of herself from his tongue to appreciate what he was doing until the back of her knees hit the cool chrome of a bumper, and she realized, dazedly, what he had in mind. Needless to say, as he lifted her and she lay back against the hood of the vehicle, she decided she much preferred this option to the earlier suggestion of taking her up against the tool shelves.

"Comfy?" He arched his eyebrow, seemingly reading her thoughts, and Rachel nodded, propping her ugg booted feet up on the bumper and spreading her knees so he could stand between her parted legs, the harsh fluorescent light highlighting her glistening sex.

"Fucking hell, you're sexy," he muttered, taking in the sight of her, spread before him for the second time that day. His hand ran down the middle of her heaving chest and he bunched the negligee around her hips as he pressed himself against her dripping center. He leaned over her and tugged gently on her thighs to position her so that her hips were level with his and kissed her again, his teeth scraping against her lip and capturing her moan as she wound her arms around his neck and arched her back to get closer.

"You are," she countered, running her lips from his brow, over his cheek and back to his lips. "You drive me crazy and you don't even know…."

He chuckled and rocked against her, nestled snugly between her thighs but making no move to enter her. "I have some idea," he retorted, "I'm right there with you, baby. I want you all the damn time; so fucking hot."

Rachel whined impatiently against his lips, "Do it then, Noah. I can't wait any longer."

She knew from just those few precious hours they'd had together that first night, that Noah liked to earn his release; he liked to push her over the edge several times before allowing himself to follow, and while usually, that sort of self-sacrifice on her partners behalf would be welcomed and appreciated, the slow build up of tension throughout the day saw her completely unravelled and she didn't want to prolong the torture any longer. She just wanted to feel him as he stretched and filled her, and have the weight of him pressing down on her as he shuddered and pulsed inside her, moaning her name in her ear as he spilled himself inside her.

Luckily, Puck seemed to know exactly what she was thinking, what she needed, and he wasted no more time, shoving his jeans and boxers off and pushing into her without preamble. "Baby," he crooned as he nipped at her lips. His hands tangled in her hair and he buried his face into the side of her neck as he sunk smoothly inside her. They moaned in unison as he filled her completely, her silken walls clutching at his length and fluttering around him, the aftershocks of her first orgasm running into the preliminary quakes of the next one, already so close and he hadn't even moved yet. "Rachel…"

This is what they'd been waiting for, all day, and for an unbearably long time before that. The night they'd come together in the hotel room had been like magic; it seemed incomprehensible to him that they could fit so perfectly together, and over the weeks he had wondered whether it was a fluke, a once off. He loved sex, it had never been bad for him, but sex with Rachel was un-fucking-believable. He feared that maybe he had been so caught up at the time, in the fact that he was finally fucking her after years of wanting too, that his recollection had exaggerated how phenomenal it had been. But the reality of the situation was that, if anything, his memory hadn't illustrated enough just how perfect they were together. Her body welcomed him, stretching to accommodate him, seemingly built for the sole purpose of having him fit snugly inside her.

"Please," she begged, digging her fingernails into his back, urging him on. "You feel amazing, just please….Noah…" she didn't know what she was asking of him but she got what she wanted when he pulled out with a guttural groan and snapped his hips forward. Rachel cried out, tugging on his nipple ring with one hand while the other settled on his ass, using it as leverage as she pushed back against him, lifting her hips to meet his thrusts, "Harder. God yes, just like that."

"Shit, baby," it was almost too much; the combination of the feel of her underneath him, around him, the smell of sweat mingled with the sweetness of her perfume, and the strain in her voice as she begged him for more. Harder. Deeper. He breathed harshly through his nose and clenched his jaw, careful to keep his strokes measured and consistent when she felt so perfect and all he wanted to do was rail her, and pound away until there was an imprint of her ass in the hood of the vehicle underneath her.

He was holding back, she could feel it, and she opened her eyes so she could watch him.

His thrusts speed up until they were urgent and seeking, and his hands were everywhere - stroking her breasts, digging into her hips - but his eyes were fixed on the swell of her stomach, mostly hidden by her nightgown. "You won't hurt us," she promised and his gaze flew to hers. His uncertainty and the small amount of hesitation he felt must have been evident as Rachel smiled at him, reassuringly. He bent his head to kiss her, pushing her legs wider apart and pressing into her as deeply as he could. He grunted as he pulled out and pushed back in, rougher and harder again, and Rachel whimpered her approval.

Those sounds she made, _fuck_, it was embarrassing how close he was already and sure, it had been a while, but there was no fucking way he was gonna cum like some horny 16 year old kid before his girl had fallen apart beneath him. Puck slipped his hand between them and worked his fingers furiously against her as he continued to thrust into her, over and over again, determined to get her off at least one more time before he let go himself. He knew she wouldn't care that it would be over so fast – she'd made it obvious that what she was looking for here was release – but he was determined to make it good for her. If he had any doubts about his abilities in that department (which he did not, fuck you very much) the ascending crescendo of his name on her lips made it pretty fucking clear she was enjoying herself. Rachel was closer than he realized and as she started to quiver and shake beneath him, she clenched her inner walls rhythmically around him to help him along.

"Fuck," his forehead dropped to her shoulder and she felt him bite down on her collarbone as his strokes slowed and deepened. She knew he was trying to starve off his own orgasm until the last possible moment so she pressed her heels into his backside, rotating her hips and rising up to meet him. The movement changed the angle of his thrusts and she felt his cock slide in deeper still, hitting resistance as he bumped against her cervix. "Noah!" she cried out as she felt herself tightening around his shaft. "Just a….oh god! Now…ohhhhhh…" her back bowed entirely off the hood and she keened his name again, loudly, tightening her legs around his waist and clinging to his shoulders as he swelled and exploded inside her, breathlessly panting her name.

Puck continued to ratchet his hips as she pulsated around his length, milking every last drop from him, and he felt her heart beating wilding in her chest as he slowed his movements and dropped his head against her chest, exhausted, trying vainly to catch his breath. She raked her fingers through his hair and struggled to regulate her breathing.

"Noah," she whispered unsteadily. "That was…" she couldn't finish her sentence because he had lifted his head and pressed his lips firmly to hers, stealing her breath all over again. When they came up for air, and he got the feeling back in his body, Puck braced himself above her by a hand on either side of her head and grinned, his eyes roaming over her face. Rachel's hand was absently stroking his arm, her expression one of a woman who had been thoroughly sexed up, and had loved every minute of it. Her hair was wild and her lips were swollen and red; he could see the beginnings of an angry red rash over her face and chest from where his stubble had scraped against her soft skin, and her eyes were a warm liquid brown, sated and content.

"Hey," he smirked down at her, running his fingers through her tousled brown locks.

"Hi," she giggled back. Rachel kissed his arm, the only part of him she could reach, and shifted slightly underneath him. "I'm sorry, but can you….?" She trailed off apologetically and he placed an open mouthed kiss against her neck as he pulled out, pausing and quirking his eyebrow at her in amusement when his softened cock inadvertently bumped against her sensitized clit and she let out a soft whine and complained that if his wish was to kill her, he was definitely succeeding. Rachel flung her arm over her eyes as he flopped gracelessly onto the hood beside her, hearing a popping sound as his weight dented the metal.

He wiped the sweat from his brow and then winced as her tiny fist shot out and punched him square in the chest, momentarily winding him. "Hey!" he protested after he had caught his breath. He captured her hand and folded it in his much larger one so she couldn't inflict anymore damage. "What the fuck was that for?"

"That was for making me beg," she answered indignantly and when he turned his head towards her, her eyes were closed but her pout had stretched into a tired smile. He rolled over, the hood underneath him groaning, and kissed the corner of her mouth. "Sorry," he muttered in contrition. "Want me to make it up to you?"

"Yes," she opened her eyes and her gaze was already wanton and hungry. "Just give me a moment to recover and then you can keep on making it up to me until I've decided I've forgiven you."

He grinned and was sure her pregnancy hormones were his new best friend, but before he could open his mouth to give her a few filthy suggestions for his penance, they heard Becca's voice floating down the stairs, calling Rachel's name. After the day they'd had, the interruption was almost expected, and they didn't jump or start scrambling for clothes like they might have only a few hours ago.

"Don't come down here," Puck yelled back instead, gathering Rachel closer to his body. "I'm naked and we're fucking like rabbits." Rachel turned her face into his shoulder and giggled.

There was a beat of silence and then, "Eww."

Puck waited for his sister to explain what she wanted, idly playing with the ends of Rachel hair, and thankfully, she didn't keep them waiting long. "Your cell phone has been ringing non stop Rachel, and some dude called the home line wanting to talk to you about settlement or something," Becca's voice conveyed confusion but Rachel knew exactly what it was in regards to.

"Brad," she explained. "He probably heard back from Michael's lawyer today. I know he was going to contact them, asking why it was taking them so long to look over the waiver I signed that relinquished all rights to his assets as long as he released his rights to mine."

Puck nodded his understanding. "Thanks Bec, she'll call him later," he caressed her hip as he dismissed his sister and waited for the click of the door at the top of the stairs before he kissed her again. "You think maybe he's finally realized you're not coming back and he's decided to play ball? What are the odds that I just screwed a divorcee?"

Rachel frowned at the insensitivity of his joke; he knew how upsetting Michael's reluctance to grant her divorce was for her. Puck wasn't pleased either, just as eager as she was to put her marriage in the past and focus on the future. "I don't know." She sighed wearily, "Michael is being particularly stubborn; I doubt he'd sign the papers so easily." She had inclined her head to lean against his shoulder and was stretching her limbs gingerly, feeling the slight pull of her muscles protesting at the movement. She tried to let go of the niggling irritation that came when her thoughts dwelled on her husband, and instead concentrated on the comforting feel of Puck's arms around her.

She buried her nose into his neck, running her palms over his defined chest and attempted to block out any unpleasant thoughts, but she kept on coming back to his flippant comment. "You don't seriously think he believes there's a chance in hell I'd go back to him, do you?" She propped herself up on an elbow and looked down at him, troubled.

"Do I really think he's that fucking stupid?" Puck wanted to know, "Yeah, I do. He's probably sitting up there in that fucking penthouse telling himself you'll get tired of slumming it soon enough and will be walking through the door any second."

Rachel blinked, ignoring his dig at the idea that she was 'slumming it' with him. "That's ridiculous, Noah. After all that he-" she took a deep breath and her eyes shifted away from his. She shook her head, frowning.

"He probably doesn't think he did anything wrong," Puck continued, watching her carefully. "Guys like that, Rach, they think they own the whole fucking world and all the people in it are just toys for their amusement. He thinks he's untouchable, like he's not accountable for a fucking thing."

She looked back at him then, hearing a familiar tightness in his voice, and touched his arm, "You're still upset that I chose not to report what he did to me," she deduced quietly.

Just the mention of it had Puck bristling. "He fucking hit you," he spat, his hand tightening on her hip as the memory of her bruised face flashed in front of his eyes. "He marked you, he made you fucking _bleed_."

She winced and brushed her thumb over his shoulder, "I know," she murmured, hugging him closer, her belly pressing into his side. She shouldn't have said anything; he always got upset when they talked about her soon to be ex husband. The mere mention of his name never failed to rile Puck up, and she'd to calm him down and physically restrain him on more than one occasion from storming out the door to take care of (what he claimed) he should have done at the time. She'd thought that in time that his anger would fade and he would forget all about thoughts of payback, but it seemed just the opposite. It was as if, as her belly grew, so did Puck's need for retribution. She knew that he couldn't let go of the image of Michael standing over her, intimidating and threatening her, _striking_ her, when she had told him she was pregnant. He had told her once that it haunted him. Looking back, he had been uneasy about her confrontation with Michael that entire week and had ignored the gnawing in his gut that told him it wasn't right for her to face her husband alone, despite her insistence.

Michael was the weakest of men, and Puck was determined that one day he would ease his own guilt by working out his frustrations on the douche's face. Until then, he just held her closer and calmed himself with the knowledge that she was there, with him, and she and their baby were both safe.

"He's fucking mental if he thinks he'll get you back," he muttered moodily. "Not gonna happen."

Rachel nodded in agreement and snuggled closer, feeling the chill of the garage start to seep into her body. "Never," she placated. "Let's not talk about this anymore." She could feel the tension in his body; he was so rigid beside her. Rachel leaned up and kissed him, employing the best diversion tactic she knew of to get him to relax. It took a minute before he responded and then he was fisting his hand in her hair and kissing her back just as hungrily.

His brow furrowed when she wrenched her lips away from what had become almost a desperate assault, but the protest died on his lips as she wriggled out of his arms and swung her leg over his thighs so she was straddling him. Rachel grabbed for his arms as the angle of the hood had her sliding a little down his leg and Puck gripped her hips to hold her steady so she didn't topple right off the vehicle.

"Thanks," she said sheepishly and clenched her knees tight against the outside of his thighs. He felt the damp heat from her core against his skin and his dick stirred immediately in response. Rachel held his gaze as she deliberately moved her hips so she was settled directly over his rapidly hardening erection and shrugged out of her sweatshirt. Puck tried to grab for it as she pulled the sleeve off her wrist but she flung it away before his fingers could grasp the material.

"Baby," the goose bumps were already starting to break out on her skin as she bunched the hem of her negligee in her fingers and once again he put a restraining hand on her wrist. "You'll freeze," he told her again, his eyes intently watching the rise and fall of her breasts as her breaths quickened.

In a flash she had tugged the nightgown over her head and leaned forward, grinding down on his arousal. "Well, you'll just have to keep me warm then, won't you?" she suggested throatily, with an enigmatic smile.

His mouth closed over her nipple at the exact same time that her little fist squeezed his cock, and he thought to himself, hazily, that if he wasn't already halfway in love with this woman, it was only a matter of time….

_**A/N: I'm sorry that I haven't managed to reply to any reviews from the last chapter, I'll get to them tomorrow when I'm supposed to be 'working'. I've got some stuff happening in the real world so I won't have much time to write in the next couple of weeks, but I'll do my best to update as soon as I possibly can. Thanks as always for you support.**_


	16. Doubt & Suspicion, Wherever he Goes

Rachel was curled up in the visitors chair opposite the large oak desk in Brad's office with her cell phone clutched in her hand, praying that Noah would be there soon. She didn't know why she hadn't just agreed to let him accompany her to this meditated meeting with Michael and his legal team in the first place, like he had wanted to.

After arguing about it at length the night before, Rachel had eventually won, insisting that she would be perfectly fine on her own. They were under the impression that Michael was ready to sign the divorce papers - having apparently accepted the fact that she wasn't questioning the matter of property division, seeking alimony payments or indeed anything at all from him - so she reasoned that Puck's attendance was unnecessary and would only cause friction.

If she had have known that her husband wasn't as eager as she was to end their marriage once and for all, instead seemingly content with playing a game that served no other purpose than wrecking havoc on her emotionally stability, she would have happily let Puck sit in. And, if her lover was unable to keep his anger in check and just happened to knock that infuriating smugness from Michael's face with a closed fist like he'd wanted to do for months, well, Rachel wouldn't have even reprimanded him for it.

She felt eyes boring into her and she looked up to see Michael exiting the conference room behind his trio of high priced lawyers, obnoxiously blowing her a kiss as they strode confidently past the glass walled office she had been holed up in since the haughty looking attorney to Michael's left had dropped a bombshell that had rocked her right down to the core. Afterwards, Rachel had been too distraught to listen as Brad vehemently refuted the allegations being thrown, so she had pleaded a headache and eagerly escaped the conference room and the victorious triumph radiating from the man who had caused her so much heartache.

It was another 10 minutes before Brad joined her and dumped several manila folders onto his pristine desk, exhaling wearily as he shrugged out of his suit jacket and rolled up his shirt sleeves.

Rachel opened her mouth, wanting to ask what had been said after she had left the room, but all she could manage was a choked sob and Brad frowned, hurriedly scooting around the desk to comfort her. "Hey, it's going to be alright," he promised as he took her hands in his.

"How is it going to be alright?" she wanted to know, sniffling miserably. "How is anything ever going to be alright?"

Brad was quiet for a moment and then he squeezed her fingers comfortingly, "I know things seem bleak right now, but I'm going to get you through this. Michael's lawyers have him grasping at straws right now. They have nothing."

"He's claiming to be the father of my baby," Rachel reminded him needlessly, referencing the latest stunt her husband was trying to pull. "He wants to exercise his supposed 'paternal rights' and force me to involve him in the pregnancy, and his lawyer says they can reason with the judge and have the divorce postponed until after the baby is born. He must have something."

"Well," Brad conceded uncomfortably, "technically they do have the law on their side and numerous case studies to draw upon and support their argument, but really, they are just smoke-screening the fact that they've run out of options. Just wait until Puck gets here and I'll explain everything to you both. Did you call him?"

Rachel nodded and detangled her hand from Brad's so she could blow her nose on the handkerchief he had passed her. "Yes. He still hasn't figured out the subway system though, even after years of living here, so he's driving into the city. I'm not sure how long it will take him."

"Not long at all," Brad murmured cryptically. Rachel's head shot up and she saw that his gaze was focused over her shoulder. She turned quickly to see Puck thanking a short, portly man who was pointing in the direction of the office, and, when his eyes locked on hers, she felt an immeasurable wave of relief flood through her. Before she could blink he had entered the room and swept her into his protective embrace like some kind of knight, there to rescue his damsel in distress.

"Baby, what is it?" he demanded anxiously, his gaze darting questioningly from her to Brad, before coming back to rest on her tear stained cheeks. "He didn't sign the papers, did he?" he surmised.

Rachel just shook her head and pressed her face into his chest.

"The fuck, man?" Puck ran his hands soothingly over her back and directed his frustration to the other man in the room. "You told us there was no reason why he wouldn't, since she doesn't even need his signature to file them anyway. What happened?"

"Maybe you should take a seat," Brad hedged, gesturing to the large chair beside the one Rachel had been sitting on just moments before.

Puck recognized an attempt to delay a conversation when he saw one. "I'm not going to like what you have to say, am I?" he asked rhetorically, resigning himself to the fact that there was just no escaping the drama when it came to the Berry vs Weitzmann divorce settlement.

He pushed Rachel gently back into her chair and sat down beside her, wrapping his arm around her shoulder, not wanting to relinquish contact. He didn't know to expect but from Rachel's demeanour and Brad's carefully blank expression, Puck knew that whatever it was, it wasn't good.

"You're right," Brad began, linking his fingers and resting them in front of him on his spacious desk. "After we put it in writing that Rachel wasn't asking for anything in the settlement, I was confident that Michael's lawyers would recommend he sign them. Failing that, we were going to file them anyway – a contested divorce takes a little longer, but it's still relatively problem free. Providing all the sections have been completed accurately the Judge would usually sign off on it and grant the divorce within a couple of months."

"You said 'were' going to file them anyway." Puck repeated shrewdly, his eyes narrowing. "What's changed? Why aren't you?"

Brad sighed and spared Rachel a sympathetic glance. "Because Michael's lawyers will file a motion to halt proceedings, based on the fact that the settlement doesn't detail anything about his child support contributions," he explained quietly.

As expected, Puck's brow furrowed with confusion, "Child support? Why would he need to…" he trailed off and both Brad and Rachel held their breaths, waiting for realization to dawn. "You have GOT to be fucking kidding me?" he spat angrily, turning to Rachel who was staring intently at her hands. Her shoulders shook as she cried silently, but otherwise, she was a still as a statue.

"Really? He's fucking going there?" Puck understood immediately that for some reason, Michael was trying to claim the baby as his own and there was no way he was going to let that happen. "I will fucking END him," he promised dangerously, the glint in his eye convincing Brad that he meant every word.

"Well, before you do," the lawyer cut in, his lips twisting into a small smile that illustrated on a personal level how supportive he was of that plan. "You should know that this is just a minor hindrance-"

"Minor!" Puck exploded. "He's trying to pass my kid off as his. I'd say that's pretty fucking major!"

The tension in the room was palpable and Rachel took advantage of the sudden silence to look up and broach tentatively, "What did you mean earlier, Brad, when you said Michael had the law on his side?"

Puck's incredulous gaze jerked from his girlfriend to her (now, _their_) legal representation. "He what?" he spluttered indignantly. "You-"

"Technically," Brad interjected, holding up his hand to ward off whatever Puck was about to say next. "I said the law is technically on his side, since, in the state of New York, a child born to a married woman who was living with her husband at the time of conception is presumed to be a child of that marriage, providing the husband is neither impotent nor sterile." He was reciting the civil code from memory.

"Someone should do the world a favor and sterilize him," Puck was muttering under his breath before his voice returned to normal pitch. "How can they just assume the husband is the father of the kid when, in this case anyway, the wife hadn't fucked the husband in over a year." He shook his head dismissively. "Fuck that noise. I'm the dad, there's no question about it."

"Maybe not in your mind," Brad retorted, not unkindly. "But there is no indisputable evidence we can give the judge that proves Rachel and Michael weren't engaging in regular sexual intercourse when the baby was conceived. And that doubt will be enough to stall the divorce, since the court will grant time for child support to be discussed and agreed upon. When children are involved the proceedings can be stretched out for undeterminable length of time."

"Only until we prove that I'm the dad, then he can't say or do shit," Puck countered; it seemed pretty cut and dried to him.

Brad inclined his head as if he agreed, but then said, "The presumption of legitimacy can be rebutted, but only by the husband or the wife. Rachel has to sign an affidavit stating that you are the biological father and grant your request for a paternity test."

Puck nodded slowly and turned to Rachel, "Ok, so that's what we'll do. Right?"

She hesitated, her eyes flicking to Brad and then back to Noah. "Right," she agreed finally, biting down on her lip. Despite her affirmative answer she was clearly battling with indecisiveness.

"Wait, you don't want to do a paternity test? What's going on, Rachel?" There was no doubt in his mind that the baby was his (Rachel wouldn't lie to him), so he couldn't understand why she would appear nervous about having to verify that.

"It's just," she laid her hand on his thigh, gazing up at him uncertainly; "I've heard that it's not widely recommended to conduct a DNA test on a fetus during pregnancy. I couldn't recite the statistics for you off the top of my head, but even if the risks are minimal, I just-"she broke off and shrugged slightly. "It makes me nervous, thinking that something might -"

"No, you're right," Puck interrupted reluctantly, understanding her apprehension. He exhaled noisily. "I think I've heard that somewhere too."

Of course he didn't want to do anything that would jeopardize their baby's development either, but this fucking sucked. This one test could put an end to Michael's interference once and for all. They should be jumping at the chance to prove that Rachel's soon-to-be ex was full of shit, and to not take that chance, having to possibly put it off until after the birth and live with the shadow of her husband hanging over their heads….well, that was going to eat away at them, slowly but surely.

"We can check with Dr. Montgomery though!" Rachel rushed to appease him, seeing the look of torment on his face that reflected her own feelings on the subject. He shrugged and made a sound of non committal, giving her hand a brief squeeze as he brooded silently, deep in thought.

She continued to stare at him anxiously, worrying her lower lip with her teeth. It was no secret that Quinn initially naming Finn as the father of her baby in sophomore year had almost destroyed Puck, and he had reacted quite strongly when Rachel had relayed the news of her own pregnancy and he had mistakenly thought she was going to let Michael take responsibility. She knew his thoughts on the subject, and having anyone question his right to be a father to their baby was sure to cut him deeply.

She hated that he had to go through this again.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, his profile blurring as tears clouded her vision. "I'm so sorry, Noah."

He looked up at the sound of her voice breaking and he reached out to frame her face with his hands, leaning forward to kiss her tenderly. "Hey, it's ok. Don't cry, it's going to be fine," he placated softly, stroking her jaw.

Rachel shook her head, "You shouldn't have to deal with this. I'm sorry you've been dragged into this mess." Her breath was catching in her throat as she struggled to contain her sobs; it seemed like all she did lately was cry.

He kissed her again, letting his lips linger on hers as he replied, "Your problems are my problems, babe. We're in this together, remember?" he reminded her.

She nodded jerkily and leaned back a bit, pressing a hand to her chest as if she was in pain. Little gasps were escaping her parted lips and her features were pinched as if she was in physical pain; Rachel had told him that she sometimes suffered with agitated panic attacks, and he recognised the onset of one when he saw it.

He dropped to his knees in front of her and gently brushed her hair back from her face. "Water," he tossed over his shoulder at Brad. "She needs a glass of water. Can you get that?"

Brad nodded and hurried out of his office, leaving the two of them alone. Rachel would have been touched that Puck had remembered that she always needed a glass of water when she was upset, if only she was thinking clearly and not so affected by the events of the last few hours.

When she had a paper cup in hand and had gulped down half its contents under the concerned and watchful gazes of Puck and Brad, her breathing was still sharp and irregular. Her eyes focused on the plush carpet beneath her feet and she began to count the small gold diamonds imprinted on the weave in an effort to center and calm herself.

"How the fuck could he do this to you?" she heard Puck wonder, almost inaudibly as his thumb stroked over her knuckles.

Rachel had asked her husband some version of that very question, not more than an hour before. In fact, they had been the only words she'd exchanged with him throughout the entire meeting. She had forced herself to remain silent up until that point, letting the lawyers battle it out, with the occasional snide comment from Michael the only disruption to the legal jargon that was flying back and forth across the wide conference table. But when the Weitzmann team had brought up the issue of her baby's paternity, Rachel had been so blind-sighted by the absurdity of the claim that she had blurted out the first thing that had come to mind.

"Why are you doing this?" she had asked, anguished, wondering how he could be so cruel and take this course of action when he knew damn well that the baby wasn't his. The man she had fallen in love with all those years ago - the man who had proposed to her with a miniscule diamond ring hidden between the pages of an original, 1965 Funny Girl playbill - would never had wanted to hurt her in this way.

But if she had ever needed further confirmation of that Michael Weitzmann being long gone, the twisted smirk that accompanied his "Because I can," told her everything she needed to know. He wasn't content with the knowledge that he had ruined her career and tarnished her reputation among their social set with his vicious lies that detailed the supposed reasons behind their separation - though she would wager he was enjoying the sympathy presently being heaped upon him. She knew from the one or two reliable sources she had kept in contact with, that Michael had painted himself as the victim, citing Rachel as a cold hearted bitch whose frigidness had pushed him to seek solace in the arms of other women - but only after years of having her withhold sex and having been subjected to verbal abuse that was a manifestation of her frustration with never being able to land a role without having him first line the pockets of casting directors on her behalf.

It was her worst fear realized; he had spread malicious gossip to multiple sources about the things she had supposedly done behind the scenes over the years to sabotage other prospective leads and propel herself to stardom – stories that less talented actors and actresses (who had always been envious of her career) were only too happy to repeat and embellish.

It was clear that whatever affection he may have felt for her had faded long ago, and the only explanation she could draw from this latest attempt to roadblock their divorce (since surely, he didn't want to remain married to her because he loved her) was that he must have learned she had moved in with Puck, and he was out to destroy whatever shreds of happiness she had managed to hold onto in the wake of the dissolution of their marriage. He was counting on the strain this would no doubt put on her relationship with Noah, and knowing Michael as she did, it wouldn't surprise her to learn he had hired someone to thoroughly investigate Noah's past; he probably relished the knowledge that the controversy of her child's paternity would be picking at wounds he hadn't even had to inflict himself.

"He's doing this because he's a sadist," Brad declared grimly, leaning his hip against his desk. "He was dragging his feet and was trying to draw out the divorce as long as he could, just because he knew what Rachel wanted more than anything was to be free of him, but then we served him the papers and he had just 30 days to respond or contest them. The settlement is so straight forward when you take into account the pre-nuptial agreement and Rachel's determination to not take one cent of his money, so this was the only card he had left to play. By bringing the paternity of the baby into question, and insisting child support be detailed in the settlement, he's delaying the divorce until such time as a DNA test can be carried out and unequivocal proof obtained that Puck is, in fact, the biological father."

Having it all reiterated to them like that only caused their spirits to plummet that little bit further.

"So we can take the paternity test now and shut this shit down, or we do nothing and let the douche claim to be the baby's father until after it's born and we can prove otherwise," Puck summarized hollowly.

"Yes," Brad replied simply, regarding the other man sympathetically.

"What are our obligations to him if we just left things as they are for the moment, so we can think it over?" Puck wanted to know. "Do we have to notify him of appointments or anything? Does he get to be involved?"

Brad shook his head emphatically, "No, absolutely not. Even if he was the father and could prove it, no court could force you into sharing that kind of information with him, or insist you involve him in Lamaze classes or something similar. Rest assured also that doctor-patient confidentiality ensures he can't go behind your back and find out anything that way either."

That was a relief at least. Rachel regarded Puck helplessly and he just gazed back at her, her doleful expression mirrored in his own eyes. Without even discussing it they both knew a paternity test was out of the question at this stage, both equally concerned, first and foremost, with the health of their baby.

So that left them essentially powerless. They could do nothing more.

Rachel took his hand and pressed it against her stomach, sensing that he needed that connection now more than ever. "Take us home," she requested tremulously.

He kissed her forehead and did just that.

***/***

"So, Katy Perry asked me to design her dress for the Grammy Awards and I just had to say no." Kurt revealed as they walked down the street arm in arm, his tone haughty and just a little bit smug. "When people encounter _Couture__by__Kurt_ I want them to be dazzled by color, appreciative of the lines and the cut, and positively blown away by the sense of glamor and sophistication each piece projects; she's so tacky she'd make even one of my creations look trashy. You would think that after all her years in the music business, as popular as she still is, she'd have learned a thing or two about fashion. I just don't think-"

Rachel frowned as Kurt cut himself off mid conversation and darted into the boutique they were passing as they walked along Columbus Avenue, lengthening her strides to catch up with him as he made a beeline towards a section towards the back of the store.

"What are you doing, Kurt? I came all the way into the city to have lunch with you, not accompany you on a shopping marathon." She complained as he took a hanger off the rack and scrutinized the blouse that had caught his eye on the mannequin in the window. "It's after 1 o'clock, I'm starving."

He spared her a glance and arched his eyebrow, "15 minutes, Diva. You just bullied me into a cupcake at Magnolia, completely disregarding the fact that my calorie count is now blown out for the entire week; surely you won't faint from lack of sustenance if we're just a little late for our reservation."

"Don't be so sure," she muttered sulkily, adjusting her purse on her shoulder. It seemed like she was ravenous 24 hours a day. Her potions were almost the same size as Noah's now – much to his amusement – and she was dreading the weigh in at her next doctor's appointment, sure she was going to be horrified at the number of pounds she had put on over the last few weeks.

"This stop is for you anyway," Kurt said, nodding his head as he finished inspecting the top and thrusting it towards her. When she reluctantly took it from him, he started perusing the racks in earnest and Rachel realized she was holding a maternity top. She blinked owlishly and looked around.

In fact, the entire store was catered towards the expectant mother. Her fingertips stroked the material and she took a closer look, grudgingly admitting that the top was pretty and something she would choose for herself. Curiously, she glanced down at the price tag and almost gasped.

"Kurt! This blouse costs in excess of $300," she hissed lowly, mindful of the shop assistant who was within hearing distance. "I don't even know why we came in here, I don't need any clothes."

The designer chuckled sardonically and eyed her outfit with disdain. Rachel tugged at the lapels of her form fitted jacket self consciously, aware that the buttons no longer fastened over her expanding waistline and mindful of the fact that she wore a thin, tunic style top over leggings out of necessity – it was one of the few blouses she had that sat loosely on her and didn't make her feel like she was restricting her breathing by wearing it.

Rachel rolled her eyes at his critique, "Quinn has been kind enough to hand-me-down several maternity tops, pants and dresses. I just haven't had time to sort through them yet."

"Quinn was pregnant eons ago," Kurt pointed out, "Whatever she's given you is sure to be horrifically outdated." He turned dismissively and went back to trolling the racks.

Rachel reached out to grasp his elbow firmly and turn him back to her, "Be that as it may," she conceded, "I am grateful for her thoughtfulness. Things have changed, Kurt. I'm no longer in a position where I can afford to drop hundreds of dollars on a piece of clothing I would only get a few weeks wear out of." Her eyes flitted from his and Kurt felt her embarrassment as the shop assistant who had been heading in their direction, caught the tail end of her statement and veered away at the last minute to instead help a lady browsing nearby, knowing a larger commission when she saw one.

He merely patted her shoulder sympathetically and ignored her, considering a pretty cashmere sweater in soft pink and dismissing it just as quickly.

"Kurt."

When he failed to answer, continuing his consideration of the sweaters on offer, Rachel stomped her foot and huffed.

"Kurt."

He finally looked up and sighed. "I heard you Sweetheart, but we are on a sponsored splurge here today and we will be outfitting you with clothes that don't make you look like poor little orphan Annie. No objections."

Her mind instantly flew to Noah. He was constantly asking her she had everything she needed, often going behind her back and confirming things with Quinn if he suspected she was hiding the truth from him like she had when she was in desperate need of new underwear. It was sweet how he wanted to provide for her and their baby, but she knew his generosity did not extend to a store like this, and she would never expect it to. Since her separation she had grown thrifty out of necessity and was more conscious of the value of each dollar. She was acutely aware of how frivolous she had been in her former life, when her status as not only a successful Broadway star, but as Michael Weitzmann's wife, ensured she never had to worry about the number of transactions on the Amex card statement at the end of the month. Bills had simply taken care of themselves; things were vastly different now.

"I'm not spending Noah's money." She declared firmly, crossing her arms and fixing her best friend with a serious stare. "I don't care if he asked you to take me shopping and charge everything back to him, I wont do it, and I won't let you either."

"He did," Kurt admitted, thinking back to the surprise call he had received from Puck that very morning after the mechanic had been told at breakfast that Rachel was going into the city to meet Kurt for lunch. He had been phoning to voice his concern over Rachel's withdrawn behavior since her run in with her husband at Brad's office earlier that week, and wanted Kurt to promise he'd make sure she enjoyed herself that day and was sent home with a smile on her face, no matter the cost – a promise Kurt was only too happy to give, with conditions of his own. "But Puck's not picking up the tab, _Couture__by__Kurt_ is."

Rachel's arms dropped to her sides and her scowl faded as she waited for him to elaborate.

"We're toying with the idea of debuting a fabulously stylish maternity line next fall to rival Gwen Stefani's, so I'm buying you everything I think you need, and am going to write off the entire expense in the name of research." Kurt's eyes had glazed over, and he was practically salivating at the prospect of selecting all those garments for her. He looked so excited that Rachel couldn't help but smile, even as she was shaking her head.

"Kurt-"

"No buts!" Kurt protested, holding up his hands and silencing her. He fixed her with an uncharacteristic sombre look. "You've had a hugely emotional week and I think at the very least, you deserve a bunch of pretty new things to make you feel better."

Rachel swallowed thickly. Kurt was yet to question her on what had occurred at Brad's office that Monday. She could only assume that Brad had filled him in on the basics – acting as her friend, not her lawyer – and the designer had employed the tact that few even knew he possessed. He seemed to understand that she needed to forget about Michael and the turmoil he was causing in her life, if only for the one afternoon.

Kurt's sly wink told her he knew what she was thinking and she was correct in her assumptions. He pressed three hangers into her hands and pushed her towards the changing rooms. "Here, go try those on. I'll be there in a moment to pass my judgement. Trust me, you'll thank me later."

She complied with a long suffering sigh, reluctantly accepting that she was being railroaded and there was nothing she could do to talk her friend out of his generous offer. "Kurt?" She waited until he turned back towards her and she simply held his gaze for a long minute, wordlessly expressing her appreciation for his sensitivity.

He merely smiled and blew her a kiss.

Later, when she was back in Brooklyn and modelling a dark blue sweater for Noah, who was practically salivating at the amount of cleavage on display before sweet talking her out of it and wrestling her back onto the bed, she was indeed sending Kurt her gratitude.

_**A/N: I'm so sorry for the long wait between updates, I hope you guys can forgive me and haven't forgotten about this story!**_

_**Thanks goes to PurpleCocoa who sent me an incredibly helpful (and detailed) message, providing me with some information I decided to incorporate into the fic that has changed the direction a bit - you're wonderful.**_

_**As always, this is a work of fiction so any glaring errors/info should be gratuitously overlooked :)**_


	17. Cravings and Ravings

_A/N: Yes, I did it again – I ended up with a 12 thousand word chapter so I've split it into two so you don't get bored and click the little x in the right hand corner before you've even made it a third of the way in – part 2 to follow later this weekend…_

"What the fuck are you doing?" Puck asked as he strolled into the kitchen late one afternoon, at the end of October, taking in the sight of his pregnant girlfriend's small frame seated at the kitchen table, her wrists immersed in a deep bowl of what appeared to be melted chocolate.

Rachel jumped, taken off guard by his sudden appearance. Pausing in her task of dipping strips of bacon into the gooey mixture she had created from microwaving together mini marshmallows and Hershey bars, she saw the look of revolt contorting his features, took a deep breath, and immediately broke down into noisy tears.

"I know! I c-can't stop th-thinking about the little p-pigs that d-died so I could eat th-this," she sobbed, the tears rolling down her cheeks, "but it's j-just so g-good." Hanging her head in shame, she continued to weep as his arms wrapped around her from behind and his thumbs rubbed soothingly against her growing bump.

"Forget the pigs," Puck couldn't contain his grin; Rachel was adorable when her hormones turned against her like this (he hated it when she cried, but as long as they were involuntary tears, he could deal). At other times (when she was bristling with anger and threatening to cut his junk off) she was downright scary. "We've been over this, babe. You're carrying my kid, so you're a card carrying carnivore until it's time to pop it out."

A tiny hand came up to swat blindly at him and he laughed, kissing her temple as he pulled out the chair beside her at the kitchen table and plonked himself down on it. From the first day she had moved into his apartment Puck had always made a point to stop work and come upstairs to check on her during the day. Since the disastrous meeting at Brad's office earlier in the week, his trips were becoming more frequent.

He was concerned about how she was coping; Michael's lawyers had apparently failed to tell him (or they had, and the bastard just chose to ignore them) that Rachel wasn't required to keep him informed about anything to do with the pregnancy he was attempting to take responsibility for, but he attempted to contact her at least once a day anyway, in an effort to converse with her about their 'impending bundle of joy'. His efforts were in vain though, because Rachel sent all of his calls to voicemail and deleted the messages without bothering to listen to them.

"How's the Puckleberry baby doing?" Puck asked as he leaned over to wipe the smudge of chocolate from the corner of her mouth, bringing his thumb to his mouth to lick it clean.

"She's active," her tears evaporated as quickly as they had came. She smiled at him then, lacing her fingers with his and bringing their joined hands to press gently against the spot she had felt the last movement. "Here."

"I can't feel anything." He remarked with disappointment, squeezing her fingers once before reluctantly letting them go. Rachel had only just recently begun to feel the baby move and had come running down the stairs into the garage, screaming like a banshee as soon as she had experienced the butterfly-like sensations in her abdomen for the very first time. She'd scared the living daylights out of him at the time; her excitement had rendered her mute and he'd thought something was wrong (despite the huge contradictory smile on her face) as she could do nothing but wordlessly grab his hands and place them on her stomach until the words finally came tumbled out and she'd explained what she was feeling.

"You heard what Dr Montgomery said at our last check up, it's hard to detect any activity right now, but rest assured, our girl has dancer's legs; she's so energetic already, it shouldn't be too much longer before she's kicking up a storm and then you'll feel it too." Rachel promised.

"A dancer huh?" Puck mused, knowing he was sporting a dopey grin and not caring how ridiculous it made him look. "Could be a boy you know. Those might be soccer legs." Since they had agreed not to find out the sex of the baby (they were just content with the knowledge that it was healthy and the element of surprise only added to their excitement) they took turns speculating what they thought they were going to have. Just that morning Rachel had been sure they were having a boy and had told Puck with a seriousness he had found comical, that on no uncertain terms was their son _ever_ allowed to sport an asinine haircut such as the Mohawk he had rocked in their teenage years. Puck had agreed surprisingly easily, only to counter that over his dead body was their daughter ever allowed out of the house in a skirt like the ones Rachel had once favored. He had a baseball bat and he assured her he wouldn't hesitate to use it, beating away the fucktards that would be lining up wanting to defile _his_ little girl.

Rachel was sighing in contentment as she munched on another slice of chocolate covered bacon. "This is so good," she informed him blissfully. "I ran out of pretzel M&M's and I thought I'd have to make a trip to the store, but then I thought this combination of sweet and salty might work and I was right. Do you want to try some?" she offered him a piece of the savoury-chocolate goodness and Puck blanched, pretending to gag.

"Nah babe, you have it." His gaze roamed around the kitchen and came to rest on a stack of boxes lined up neatly against the wall. "What are those?" He asked curiously, wondering if she'd had more of her belongings moved out of storage and sent over. She hadn't asked for his help with lifting anything heavy and he hadn't noticed any deliveries that day, but then, he had been out of the garage for over an hour before lunch, running errands.

Rachel rolled her eyes and huffed in annoyance. "They were delivered today, courtesy of you mother. Apparently she packed all of yours and Rebecca's baby things and took them with her to Chicago when she moved. She is sending everything to us now because she's not confident that we can purchase everything we might need for an infant in New York City, the shopping capital of the world."

Her sarcasm was lost on him as he just furrowed his eyebrows "Huh? Has my Ma been calling you?"

"Only a dozen times so far, _today_." Rachel replied shortly, her mood having suddenly turned sour. "The last thing I need is yet _another_ person phone stalking me."

Puck's jaw tightened as she referenced Michael's incessant harassment, and she sighed, regretting the comment almost immediately. She leaned over and trailed kisses over his cheek, stroking his shoulder until she felt him relax under her touch.

"Yeah, sorry about that," after enjoying her ministrations for a few moments, he returned to the subject of his mother. "She's really excited about becoming a grandma."

Rachel's face softened as she smiled, "I gathered, seeing as how she put an announcement in the newspaper the very same day you broke the news to her. I'm just thankful she hasn't decided to pay us a visit yet. I think I'll need a month to prepare myself for the onslaught; she's quite enthusiastic, isn't she?"

Puck snorted, recalling how his mother had lapsed into silence when he'd told her over the phone, only to practically rupture his eardrum a second later with her squeal of delight. She hadn't even bothered berating him for doing the horizontal tango with a chick who was married to someone else, she was too ecstatic over the fact that the mother of her future grandchild wasn't a gentile (this time around).

In fact, she'd given him the impression that accidentally knocking up Rachel was the smartest thing he'd ever done. His mother had been telling him for over a decade now that Rachel - despite her petite stature - had child bearing hips, and was the ideal prospective bride she'd always pictured him settling down with. He hadn't wanted to hear dreams of a happily ever after for him and Rachel when he was 17 and only looking for a warm and willing body to spend his Saturday nights with, but now that idea didn't sound so bad. In fact, it sounded pretty fucking perfect.

Rachel's cell phone chose that moment to vibrate with a received text message and without even glancing at the display herself, she indicated he should look at it. "That will be your mother now probably with another 'respectable Hebrew name" for us to add to our list. That will be the sixth suggestion so far this afternoon alone."

Puck picked up her Blackberry and forced himself to ignore the number of missed calls displayed on the screen, all from her husband. Instead, he opened the most recent text from "Noah's mother" and snorted before letting it drop back on the table with a small clatter. "Ishmal? Fuck no! Have they all been that terrible?"

She pretended to think, tapping her finger to her cheek. "Let's see; there was Amos, Gideon, Orli and her personal favourite, Saul. It means 'prayed for'." Rachel deadpanned.

He rolled his eyes; subtlety was not his mother's strong suit. "And if it's a girl?" He asked in amusement.

"Reina, Hyman and Aviva are the front runners."

Puck just shook his head and wisely said nothing. He figured it was best to let his mother believe they actually gave a fuck about her opinion until the ink was dry on the birth certificate with whatever name he had Rachel selected, and it was too late for her to voice any objections. If his mother was unhappy with their choice, he'd just wave mini Puck under her nose until she stopped bitching.

The more he thought about, the more he realized that he was officially the best son _ever,_no matter what he may have subjected his mother to in the past. He'd now done his duty and she could never again bitch him out for anything because he could play the 'Hey lady, I made you a Jewish grand-baby' card and get off scot-free. At least until the novelty of the first wore off and she demanded _more_ Jewish grandchildren.

His glance slid contemplatively to Rachel who was humming quietly to herself and delicately licking chocolate from her fingers. That conversation was far too premature to broach when they were muddling through their relationship one day at a time, but years after he and Quinn had given Beth up for adoption, when the pain had diminished some and he had dared to imagine himself as a father one day, it had always been to a small army of Puckerman spawn.

While Becca was (more often than not) a pain in his ass, he loved having her as a sister. And he and Finn were practically brothers, having been best friends since they were in diapers; he didn't want his kid to grow up an only child. He filed that thought away for later (for when she was finally free of her _other_ relationship and could focus on _theirs_) as Rachel once again began to speak.

"You'll be happy to know I finally spoke with my fathers today,"

"Oh yeah?"

She nodded, "I had emailed them asking them to call me here on the apartment number as soon as they got into the next port on their cruise. I was afraid they would call the penthouse looking for me and Rosa or Michael would tell them their version of events out of spite," she leaned into him and moaned appreciatively as his fingers instinctively zoned in on, and rubbed the knot in her back that had been bothering her. "Filling them in on my separation and the pregnancy was a conversation that was long past due."

Puck nuzzled his nose into her hair as he continued to massage her sore spots, "So how did they take it?" He asked finally, holding his breath with some small amount of trepidation as he waited for her answer.

"Surprisingly well," she answered thoughtfully. "They were ecstatic that I've finally left Michael – they merely tolerated him for my sake, but they never did go out of their war to forge a relationship with him like parents usually would with their child's spouse."

He nodded, unsurprised since her husband was a giant fucking douche. He waited a beat, "And the baby?"

Rachel tilted her head to look at him and smiled, "They always wanted a large family and had intended to have more children, but unfortunately, they could never find anyone else to surrogate for them after Shelby gave birth to me. They've been hounding me for grandchildren since my 21st birthday, so I knew they'd be happy for us. I think their excitement may even rival your mother's; they mentioned they were going to call her right after they hung up with me, so they could all congratulate each other on how ineffective birth control and their offspring's apparent raging libidos had finally worked in their favor." Rachel's smile faded when her joke fell flat and failed to draw a reaction from him. She noted the rigidness of his jaw as he waited for her to relay the conversation with her fathers in its entirety, but was not able to guess the reason for his apparent apprehension.

"They were initially shocked when they learned I had taken up with one of Lima's more _notorious_ former residents," she teased, poking him lightly in the ribs and hoping to draw a smile from him. "But then daddy said he always wondered if it was your goal to bed _all_ the girls in Glee club, and he figured, after your short lived fling with Tina in senior year and the fact that Mercedes and Sam have been happily married since graduation, that I was the last one left on the list and it was only a matter of time."

Puck forced himself to laugh as he ran his hand self consciously over his head, "Well, I bet they'll be happy that I ditched the Mohawk at least."

"Your haircut never bothered them, Noah. My fathers have always held a high opinion of you," she reminded him gently when she saw how uncomfortable he was. It struck her then that he was actually worried about her fathers' reaction and she wanted to put him at ease.

And it was true anyway. While Puck's reputation often made people wary of him, the daddies Berry had been vocal in their admiration of the way he had got his life together after his stint in juvie. In fact, they were probably the only ones in the small Jewish community of Lima that hadn't completely written him off like the rest of the old cronies at Temple, who'd blatantly given him the stink eye whenever he had dared show up with his Nana.

Puck meanwhile had always thought that Rachel's fathers were good guys, and he could only hope that if they were concerned about their daughter's situation (and he couldn't blame them, given how drastically her life had changed in a such a short time as a result of her affair with him) they would at least give him a chance to earn their trust and prove that he was going to be an awesome dad to their first grandchild.

Rachel was silent, waiting for some kind of response from him, so he flashed another smile and willed himself to relax. "Well, that's the parentals down. Don't think there's anyone else to tell," he remarked with a casualness he wasn't feeling. He knew Rachel had been afraid her fathers would be disappointed in her and the decisions she had made, so he was glad that they had taken the news so well. He couldn't help but feel however, that their acceptance was too easily won. He expected, at the very least, an interrogation about his intentions as they sought assurances that he was taking care of their daughter.

"They promised to call back at the next port and hoped that they might have a word with you then," she added hesitantly, watching him closely.

_Ah - there it was._

He couldn't quite hide his grimace and Rachel giggled in spite of herself, slapping his chest lightly. "Don't look so worried, it will be painless, I promise. They just want to make certain that I'm okay, all things considered."

Puck nodded, "I get it," he told her, his smile more genuine now. "They have to do the dad thing and threaten me with bodily harm if I jerk you around. It's cool, I'll talk to them."

She frowned then, almost offended by the insinuation that he would treat her terribly. "They will do no such thing! I told them how wonderful you've been and how well you're taking care of me. I was sure they would want to hop on the next plane back to the states as soon as they heard Michael and I were divorcing, and this nonsense about him claiming to be the father or _our_ baby. The fact that they haven't suggests that they are confident that I'm in good hands here with you."

Puck's expression changed and his smile morphed into a filthy grin as his hands wandered down her spine and he lowered his head to nip playfully at her lips. "Oh, I agree," he murmured silkily, happy to utilize the segue she'd unknowingly given him and lay the other conversation to rest. "You're in_very_ good hands," he bantered suggestively as he squeezed her ass.

Rachel laughed and before she could respond the back door opened and a giggling Becca darted inside with Josh in tow, quickly shutting the door behind them so the heat inside wouldn't escape; it was only the middle of fall but already it felt like winter was setting in.

"Hey lovebirds, what's up?" Becca asked cheerfully, dumping her book bag carelessly on the table.

"Same old, same old," Puck answered dismissively with a shrug of his broad shoulders. He shifted slightly, sliding his hands over Rachel's thighs as he reluctantly leaned back and put some space between them. "How was school? Please tell me you actually went and weren't fucking around all day." He glanced suspiciously at Josh who was rubbing his hands together to warm them.

"Of course!" the younger girl's tone demonstrated her indignation at the insinuation she may have ditched. "Josh picked me up after my last class this afternoon. I'm just going to change, then we're going out to grab a bite to eat before heading to that bookstore I love on Vanderbilt Ave; there's a signing tonight by one of our favorite authors."

Puck didn't bother offering an apology for his accusation and Josh was still shifting uncomfortably under his assessing gaze as Rebecca told them she would be only a few minutes and disappeared into her bedroom.

Rachel kept her own eyes fixed on Noah, careful not to look in Josh's direction. The young man had taken to spending a lot of time in the apartment, seeing as he had apparently forged a close friendship with Rebecca over their shared interest in art and creative writing. He still paid an uncomfortable amount of attention to Rachel though, and she had woken from a nap recently to find him perched on the end of the couch, staring at her in what she had interpreted as ardent appreciation.

He had claimed to be waiting for Rebecca who had a half day off school because of some teacher's conference and had been on the phone to her mother. His expression had seemed to project ignorance of any wrong doing on his part, so she hadn't addressed how uncomfortable his proximity had made her feel, not knowing how to voice how inappropriate she deemed his actions. She had just pointedly referenced her pregnant state and blamed it for her midday sleepiness, before excusing herself to take Puck, Lenny and Steve the sweets she had brought them that morning for their coffee break.

Rachel was beginning to see that Noah was right in what he had said all those weeks ago at his employee picnic - Josh's crush was bordering on ridiculous. She just hoped that by not hiding the physical relationship she shared with Noah, Josh would come to his senses and see that he hadn't a chance in hell with her. He needed to realize how misplaced his affections were before Noah lost patience with him and took matters into his own hands.

A few minutes later, when Becca came skidding back into the kitchen, she wound her scarf back around her neck in preparation for the outdoors. "Try not to get into too much trouble while I'm gone, hmm?" She drawled sarcastically.

Rachel looked at her and smiled. "We'll try," she replied wryly, knowing that because she and Puck were essentially homebodies these days, preferring to curl up together on the sofa during the evenings, Rebecca considered them 'old' and 'boring'.

Rebecca snorted, all smiles now she buttoned her coat, "Before I forget, are we still on for mani - pedi's next Thursday, Rach? Some of my friends asked me to go with them on Friday afternoon before the dance, but since it's your dress I'm borrowing, I think it'll be fun to continue the whole fairy godmother thing and get all prettified with you."

Rachel nodded, still amazed that Rebecca had readily agreed to the tentative suggestion she had made. Truthfully, she had been waiting for the younger girl to make some last minute excuse to avoid spending time with her, one on one. She was glad that wasn't the case and that Becca seemed genuinely excited about the prospect. "Of course, I'm looking forward to it and I have the whole afternoon free, but we can talk about that later. You kids should get going, have fun!"

She didn't miss the way Josh frowned at having been grouped as a 'kid' as Rebecca double checked her pockets for her house keys, and she was thankful at least that Noah had helped her recognize the interest the younger man was paying her before she could inadvertently do or say anything that he may have taken as encouragement.

"Hmm," Puck was musing, interrupting her thoughts as he glanced sideways at her and smirked, "an apartment all to ourselves, whatever should we do?"

Rachel's mind instantly went into overdrive and Becca and Josh's presence simply faded into the background and she focused on Noah. She arched her eyebrow invitingly and leaned forward to steal a kiss. "I have a few ideas," she breathed, drawing his closer and brushing her lips lightly over his a second time.

"Geez, will you two get a room?" Rebecca protested half heartedly, rolling her eyes in disgust. They had been all over each other since the night she had hosted her study group, barely going 5 minutes at a time without sticking their tongues down each others throats or locking themselves into the Master bedroom. Even her iPod turned up to maximum volume couldn't drown out the sound of Puck's headboard slamming repetitively against the wall, and Rachel was (most definitely) a screamer.

"Best idea I've heard all fucking day," Puck grinned, tugging Rachel up by her hands. He paused and gestured at the plate of bacon sitting on the table. "Can you cover that and put it in the fridge for us before you go, Bec?" He snagged the bowl of melted chocolate and eyed Rachel hungrily, "We'll take this with us," he decided, slapping her ass and then pulling her along, giggling, in the direction of their bedroom.

Josh watched them go in dismay. "Are they always like that?"

Rebecca shrugged, oblivious as always to his interest in her brother's baby momma as she shoved the plate, uncovered, into the refrigerator. "Not in the beginning, but pretty much always now. It's kind of sweet actually," she admitted grudgingly. "Noah's really mellowed out since Rachel moved in. He's like, happy or something."

A heavy thud came from the bedroom and Rachel's laughter carried through the walls. Scarcely a minute later, her laughter turned to throaty moans and Rebecca grimaced. "That there is our cue to exit, stage left," she determined, dragging a reluctant Josh towards the back door, missing the way he looked back over his shoulder, longingly. "Let's go."

***/***

Rachel wiggled her red-polished toes happily in her flip flops as she paid at the counter and waited patiently for Rebecca to thank her manicurist and join her for the short walk home.

"Thanks for this, Rach," Becca looped her arm comfortable though Rachel's as they stepped onto the side walk. "I've never been so excited to attend a stupid school dance before - mostly coz I've never been into all that girly shit and wanted to put in the effort."

"You're welcome." Rachel replied warmly, "Growing up with two fathers I wasn't afforded too many opportunities to engage in these types of feminine grooming rituals. And I only went to a few dances myself – just my junior and senior prom really, and a disastrous Valentines day dance with Finn."

"Junior Prom," Becca snorted, "I remember that. Noah went with that chubby chick, Lauren Zises, right? She looked like a blue whale in their prom pics; what was he thinking?"

"Rebecca!" Rached chastised, even as she laughed at the memory of Noah's short lived infatuation with the outspoken female wrestler in high school. "I'll have you know that your brother had genuine feelings for Lauren, he was so upset when she dumped him for that guy she met in the online WWE chatroom."

"Whatevs, he only went out with her in the first place coz he couldn't have you," the younger girl claimed knowledgeably as they walked, sniffing appreciatively as they passed a Greek souvlaki shop.

Rachel looked sideways at her, "Noah and I were merely friends in high school, nothing more," she claimed "I think you are mistaken."

"Right," Rebecca scoffed. "Do you even know my brother at all? You think singing Sweet Caroline was nothing? He stood up for you, he organized a fucking Barbra-vention when you said you wanted a nose job, and he _always_ kicked the shit out of Finn when he did something stupid and made you cry," she recounted easily, "Did you ever see him doing shit like that for anyone else?"

Rachel stopped walking altogether as Rebecca finished the short trip down memory lane, "What do you know about those things?" she asked curiously, "You were only a little girl back then."

Rebecca paused too and turned back to look at her, "So? You think my ears are painted on? As if Noah could hide anything from our Ma; we knew he was stupid over you since sophomore year, when he realized you were the only girl that wouldn't treat him like shit, or like some kind of walking vibrator, good for getting them off and nothing more."

She laughed as Rachel screwed up her nose at her crassness, "And I know you were too hung up on Finn to notice - which is just wrong by the way." she added, gesturing at Rachel's stomach. "Thank your lucky stars that he wasn't the one who knocked you up - you'd be torn in fucking half trying to push his dumb-as-dog-shit, gigantic spawn out."

"Finn and Quinn's children are normal sized," Rachel protested half heartedly, smiling at Rebecca's comments that were so similar to something her brother would say. "And quite intelligent - though I'm sure that has more to do with Quinn than anything," she added as an afterthought.

"Yeah, they might be normal sized _now_," Rebecca emphasized, "but you should have seen them when they were first born; fattest heads you've ever seen on a baby. They were like bobble head dolls."

Rachel laughed again and fell back into step with Becca. "Well, regardless of whether or not Noah had feelings for me back then, I'm glad we're together now."

"Me too," Rebecca agreed without thinking, not realizing that her apparent approval of her brother's relationship meant so much to Rachel, who lowered her head and smiled at the pavement beneath their feet.

"So, is there any reason you're so excited about this dance in particular?" Rachel asked, enjoy their easy repartee. "Is there anyone special you want to impress?"

"Just Josh," came the casual reply. "I can't believe he agreed to come, since he pretty much hated school the first time around. But he knows I want to show him off."

"Oh," Rachel tried (and failed) to hide her surprise, "You're going to the dance with Josh? I wasn't aware the school allowed non-students to attend."

"Yeah, my school's progressive like that," Becca explained. "Thank god; s'not like I'd ever date any of the guys in my class. I need someone more mature."

Rachel blinked slowly, trying to absorb what she was being told. _They__were__dating?_

"I was under the impression you and Josh were just friends," she broached carefully.

"Well, we haven't made anything official yet," Rebecca admitted and Rachel thought she understood. It was obvious to her that Josh had Rebecca fixed firmly in the friend zone, but apparently hadn't made it at all clear to the girl.

"Does Noah know that you're taking Josh as your date?"

"Are you insane?" Rebecca retorted immediately, "You know what he's like; he'd overreact and flip his fucking lid. And if he knew Josh had reserved a hotel room for us for after the dance-"

"Hotel room?" Rachel squeaked, almost stumbling in shock.

"You can't tell him," she must have realized her error, because Rebecca stopped walking again and grabbed Rachel's arm, pulling her to a halt and forcing people to walk around them. "It's not just for us, it's like a suite – Celeste and her boyfriend are staying there too, and maybe a couple of others."

Her gaze roamed over Rachel's face and she could see the other woman was unconvinced, so she tried again, "Rachel, please. I'm almost 18 years old and I'm responsible, you know I am; it's not like I'm going to do something stupid and get myself knocked up or anything. My brother doesn't need to know anything."

Rachel ignored the pointed jab and slipped her hands in the pockets of her jacket as she bit down on her lip. "You're right," she said finally, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. Rebecca let out a relieved breath, thinking she was off the hook, but what Rachel said next had her stiffening and reconstructing the walls she had only just begun to lower when it came to her relationship with her brother's girlfriend. "He probably will be upset, but for all intents and purposes Noah is your guardian, and it's not my place to keep something like this from him. I'm sorry Rebecca, but if you don't tell him, I'll have too."

Becca's face hardened at that, and she took another step back. "Fucking typical," she shook her head derisively, adopting a sneer that she hadn't directed at Rachel in weeks. "I knew this was an act; you didn't want to do anything nice for me, or be my friend, you were just trying to suck up to me and get on Noah's good side."

"Rebecca, that's not true! I really do want us to be friends -" Rachel was reaching for her hand but Rebecca shrugged her off roughly.

"Prove it," she challenged, "If you care about my happiness, even a little, you won't tell Noah about the hotel room."

"Becca-" Rachel said softly, shaking her head apologetically. "You know I have too." she paused, collecting her thoughts, not wanting to blurt something out that could cause this already volatile situation to get any worse. "Josh is _older_, though not by much, and while you may have feelings for him I'm not convinced that he-"

"That he what?" Becca spat, narrowing her eyes.

Rachel took a deep breath, squaring her shoulders as she replied honestly, "I don't think he feels the same way about you. I think you may have misinterpreted his friendliness for something else."

For a long minute, neither of them spoke. They just stared at each other, Rachel's gaze pleading with her to understand.

"You don't know him," Rebecca replied finally, defensively. "You don't know anything about him, and here you are claiming you know how he feels about me-"

"I think he cares for you," Rachel interjected, "but I find it hard to believe that is harbouring any kind of romantic feelings for you when he has made it clear that his interest lies elsewhere."

"With who?" Rebecca asked incredulously, still finding it ridiculous that Rachel was apparently trying to claim she had any knowledge at all on the subject.

"Me," Rachel admitted quietly, after another lengthy pause.

Rebecca gaped, "You-" she stopped and laughed bitterly, "Boy, you are something else, aren't you? Your ego is so fucking out of control that you think Josh is interested in _you_? You just can't stand not being the center of attention, can you? You're unbelievable." She threw up her hands and turned away.

"Rebecca, wait! If you'll just let me explain-" Rachel was left talking to air, and she struggled to catch up as the other girl took off, practically breaking into a sprint to get away from her.

The back door to the apartment was wide open when Rachel made it home 10 minutes later, having walked the half mile back from the salon in flip flops as fast as she could. She was greeted by the raised voices of Puck and Becca and she knew right away Becca had brought up the dance, Josh and the hotel room, and no doubt had something unpleasant to say about Rachel as she did so.

"Over my _fucking_ dead body," Puck was shouting when Rachel entered the living room, out of breath from the return trip. "You're in fucking high school, there's no way in hell you're getting a hotel room with a guy that's obviously using you for convenience sake."

Rachel winced, that was exactly the wrong thing to say.

"Not you too," Rebecca groaned slapping her hand to her forehead. "You and Rachel need to get this through your thick heads: Josh is my boyfriend, Noah-"

"Really?" Puck interrupted obnoxiously, "Said that did he? Asked you out, pays for your food, kisses you goodnight?" He demanded, his anger overriding any sense of self preservation against his sister's indignation.

Rebecca's face dropped for just a split second and Puck jumped on her momentary slip of composure. "He hasn't has he?" He guessed shrewdly. "He's never actually called you his girlfriend. Has he even held you hand, given you any indication at all that he wants to be something more than friends?"

Rebecca spun away but not before both Rachel and Puck could see the beginnings of doubt creep over her features and Rachel's heart went out to the girl. "You don't know what you're talking about," she mumbled. "We may not have put a label on what we are, but he does have feelings for me."

"He doesn't, not like that," Puck disagreed uncrossing his arms and sighing a bit. "Bec, I'm sorry-"

"Don't touch me!" she flinched away from his touch as he went to pat her shoulder and when she spun back towards them, her eyes were shiny. She caught sight of Rachel then and her face twisted unpleasantly, "I hope you're happy," she spat, "You've ruined everything."

Rachel went to open her mouth – to say what, she wasn't sure - but Puck walked over and slipped his arm around her waist in a show of solidarity that Rachel felt was out of place. The last thing Rebecca needed was to feel that they were ganging up on her; she just needed to know that they were looking out for her – they didn't want her to be so blinded by her own feelings that she couldn't see the situation for what it was. She would only end up getting hurt.

Throwing them one last look of pure contempt, Rebecca stormed past them without another word. Rachel winced as her bedroom door slammed a moment later and it felt as if the whole apartment shook from the force of it.

"Noah…" she sighed and rubbed her temple wearily.

He was letting out a frustrated breath of his own but he tried to smile reassuringly at her. "Don't worry, she'll get over it. She's not dumb; she knows we're right about Josh. She's just stubborn enough to fight us anyway."

"But I don't want her to fight with us," Rachel replied unhappily. "He's still going to the dance with her - you can't forbid him to attend – and I have a horrible feeling it won't end well. She really thought they were dating; heaven knows how she came to that conclusion because I've never seen him be even remotely affectionate with her,"

"Babe," Puck held up his hand to ward off further discussion, "Come on, enough. We said our piece. She can go to the dance, but she's not spending the night with him. Now that we've told it like it is, she'll have to deal. I'll call Ma tomorrow, maybe she can talk some sense into her."

He effectively ended the conversation when he walked off in the direction of the kitchen, leaving her standing there, torn.

Rachel stared after him before glancing down the hallway towards Rebecca's room. As if on cue, loud music began to play and (while never having acted out this way as a teenager herself) Rachel deduced this was Becca exercising her demonstrable displeasure with them.

Feeling the slight movement of her baby, she automatically dropped her hand to caress her stomach. This parenting thing was a lot harder than she thought and she could only hope that their baby wasn't as challenging as Rebecca was proving to be – and she wasn't even Rachel's responsibility!

"Babe!" Puck's voice was calling out to her, infiltrating her thoughts, "I could eat the belly out of a fucking cow right now; how do you feel about chili for dinner?" Rachel rolled her eyes affectionately and smiled to herself as she went to join him, catching him muttering ingredients to himself.

He looked up and grinned lopsidedly as she slip into the bar stool at the counter to watch him as he worked. She was still dwelling on how ineffective she had been dealing with Rebecca, and worrying about what that said about the kind of mother she would turn out to be, but as he slid a chopping board over to her, asking her silently to chop the onion and peppers while he prepped the meat, she thought they made a good team; with Noah by her side, she felt she could tackle anything – even volatile, disagreeable teenagers.


	18. She Danced, She Cried

Puck was having lunch with Lenny and Steve in the little nook to the side of the garage that served as their break area, when Rachel flounced through the work shop, a wide grin on her face.

"Sup?" He asked curiously when he noticed her, grunting jokingly as she sat down heavily on his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck and smacking a noisy kiss on his cheek.

"I got a job!" she declared excitedly, squeezing his shoulders for emphasis. Her brown eyes were sparkling happily as she explained, "It's with the Brooklyn Theatre Company. They've employed me for 15 hours a week, and the pay is dismal for a predominantly administration role - mostly selling tickets for the five venues they lease, and helping out with the publicity for the shows they're putting on this season. But that's not the best part-" she paused dramatically for effect and was obviously waiting for some kind of prodding on his behalf, so Puck quirked his eyebrow and played along, asking drolly, "Ok, I'll bite. What's the best part?"

She needed no further prompting.

"They've asked me to assist in the casting of a new workshop production and act as a mentor for the actors!" she squealed and her smile grew wider, if that was even possible. "Do you know how great this is? I've expressed an interest in working behind the scenes for a while now, given how much I've learned about the business from-" she faltered and Puck's own grin faded when he realized she was about to reference her husband who was still harassing her at every possible opportunity and generally making their lives miserable.

"Well, anyway." she deflected deftly. "In the back of my mind I had always considered pursuing a career as a producer or director someday when my performing days came to an end, and now is as good a time as any to get some experience. And to be involved in a show right from the beginning – to nurture and shape it, and perhaps play a key role in seeing that it gets picked up and premiered on Broadway someday? That would be a dream come true." Rachel knew she was babbling, and it took her a moment to compose herself and reign in her obvious excitement. She studied Puck carefully, trying to gauge his reaction to her news but before she could figure out just what exactly his steady, expressionless gaze meant, she just had to ask, hesitantly, "What do you think, Noah?"

"I think it's great, babe." Puck replied slowly. "But I mean, how much time would this mentoring stuff take up?" he wanted to know, his palm settling on her stomach, "I don't want you to exhaust yourself."

"I won't!" Rachel hurried to assure him earnestly, "Workshop are notoriously slow moving and tedious to start, and it's not a _huge_production," she admitted, "Once casting is complete, rehearsals are generally three times a week for a couple of hours, and I won't be doing anything strenuous; it will be mostly sitting around running lines and fine tuning the script - it's not like I'll be up on the stage with everyone and having to put all that time into dance choreography and conditioning..." There was a wistful edge to her tone that Puck immediately picked up on and Lenny and Steve must have noticed the change in her expression too as they quietly got up and left to give the couple some privacy.

Puck squeezed her thigh and kissed her cheek, aware that she was dwelling on her isolation from Broadway. He just wanted her to be happy, and while she and the baby were enough for him, he knew her happiness was shadowed by the loss of her career. He hated that the one thing she had worked her whole life for had been taken away from her and it was partly (mostly) his fault.

"The job sounds great, Rach," he affirmed quietly. "I know you're going crazy with nothing to do around here during the days and let's face it, you're the shit, so I hope they know how lucky they are they have you."

She figured that_'you're__the__shit'_ roughly translated to how talented a singer and performer she was, and she felt her throat constrict in the wake of his compliment. "Thank you, Noah." she whispered gratefully, kissing him gently. She couldn't articulate just how much his support meant to her. She was so used to having a partner who constantly second guessed her decisions to the point where she had got into the habit of waiting for Michael's approval before she acted on anything. She had lost a large part of her independent streak and a huge chunk of self confidence to her marriage and slowly but surely, Puck was helping her put the fragments of the old Rachel Berry back together.

She loved him for that. And for the fact that even if he didn't agree with whatever she was doing, he would never attempt to undermine her - she was sure that while he would always be forthcoming with his own opinion, he would accept her actions as her own.

"Welcome," he replied eventually, carding his fingers through the ends of her hair. "Want to grab some Chinese tonight and celebrate?" he offered, "I'll even pick up some sparkling apple cider or something, to toast with."

Rachel smiled her thanks but shook her head, "We're going into the city tonight to have dinner with Kurt and Brad, remember?"

Conveniently, it had slipped his mind.

"I have a few things to go over with Brad that are unrelated to my divorce," she didn't offer any further explanation and he didn't ask for one; she appreciated that too.

"Ok," he accepted easily, "But why do I have to come if you're just gonna shut yourself in the den with Brad all night? Are you really gonna make me hang with Kurt by myself? Aren't you worried he might try and turn me, and keep me as his very own manslave?" she knew he was joking and that he would willingly accompany her to Manhattan with minimal protest, but she wasn't above inflicting a little torment of her own.

"You have to come because Kurt has narrowed down the fabric swatches for the nursery to five possible choices and would very much like your input."

Puck's eyes widened in terror, "What? Why me? Why can't you discuss this stuff with him?"

"Because," she answered patiently as she slid off his lap to stand, "While I was in no hurry to start picking anything out, it was you played devil's advocate and agreed it was never to early to talk themes - enlisting Kurt as our own personal interior decorator. So, I've decided that since _you're_the one who got us in to this mess, it's your responsibility to talk him out of a grooming station and the baby tranquillity corner."

His nose wrinkled in confusion as he looked up at her, "What the fuck is a baby tranquillity corner?" Rachel shrugged, just as clueless as he was.

"Have you seen Rebecca today?" She changed the subject tentatively as Puck stood to go back to work. He shook his head.

"She told me yesterday that she was going to Celeste's place after school to get ready for the dance tonight. Celeste's mom is chaperoning or something, so she's going to drive them home and Bec will stay overnight there."

Rachel lifted her eyebrow at this new piece of information, a huge change in plans from the explosive argument Rebecca and Puck had the night before about the hotel room Josh had booked.

He held his hand up, easily reading the scepticism in her expression, "I know what you're thinking, but it's on the level. I spoke with Celeste's mom and I've played basketball with her dad down at the rec center; the dude's a total hard ass. He'll be probably guarding the bedrooms all night with a shot gun making sure no one sneaks in or out. Saves me from doing it."

Rachel flashed him a small smile then frowned, "Noah-"

"I know," he interrupted, knowing what she was going to say. "I don't like her mooning over Josh anymore than you do. We both know she's gonna get fucked over, but what more can we say? She's almost 18 and my Ma has been on the phone to me today telling me I gotta let Becca make her own mistakes. Easy for her to say," he added darkly, thinking again how much it sucked their his mother got to pull rank on him all the way from Chicago when it came to Rebecca, when she wouldn't be around to pick up the pieces when (not if) it all blew up in their faces.

Rachel nodded unhappily and sighed. "All right, well I'm going to take a nap. You'll finish up on time so you can shower before we leave, wont yet?"

"Yes, dear." he answered facetiously. She poked her tongue out at him and made for the stairs, putting an extra sway into her hips, just because she knew he'd still be watching.

He was, and he appreciated the view.

***/***

Later than night, Puck was rubbing the bridge of his nose wearily as Kurt shoved a numerous catalogues and fabric swatches in his face.

"So I was thinking a baby African Safari theme," the designer was saying, "with stuffed hippos, giraffes and tiger cubs, and a jungle print netting draped over the -"

Puck was saved by the ringing of his phone and he eagerly fished it from his pocket, feigning an apologetic expression when Kurt frowned at the interruption.

"Bec?" He answered cautiously after a cursory glance at the display. It was just after 9 o'clock - the dance should be in full swing right now so he had no idea why she would be calling him.

"N-n-n-oah?" His name was punctuated by sniffles and he clenched his eyes shut as his stomach sunk.

_Fuck. _

"What is it? What's wrong? Are you hurt?" He fired off the questions anxiously as he leaned forward on the sofa and tightened his hold on his cell phone.

"Nothing, I'm ok. I just-" she broke off and he could hear her on the other end of the line, struggling to contain her tears. "Can you come get me? I don't want to be here anymore and I don't have enough cash for a cab," he could barely make out the words through her muffled sobs and he nodded immediately, even though she couldn't see him.

"Yeah, of course. Rachel and I are in the city right now so it's gonna take me like, 20 minutes to get to you, but I'll run every yellow light and haul ass to get there A.S-fucking-P."

There was a pause, followed be a hollow laugh, then a small, "Thank you, Noah."

The meek, wavering voice didn't sound like the Becca he knew, and his mind was racing - possible scenarios presented themselves to him, offering explanations as to what had caused her to reach this state. He hated each and every one of them and he knew he wouldn't relax until he had his sister tucked securely next to him in his truck and he could assess whatever hurt – physical or otherwise – was affecting her.

"Anytime sis, hang tight."

"Okay,"

Puck reluctantly ended the call and looked up to see Rachel standing worriedly in front of him with Kurt and Brad silently lurking in the background. Kurt must have barged into the den where Brad and Rachel had been holed up for the last hour to get her.

"What is it, Noah? Is it Becca? Is she ok?"

"Yeah," he nodded as he stood, clasping his hands on her shoulders and rubbing his thumbs reassuringly over her collarbone. "But I guess something happened at the dance and she's crying and-" he blew out a breath and lifted his hand to rake agitatedly through his hair. "Becca _never_ cries. I have to go right now and pick her up."

"Well of course," Rachel spun away, leaping into action. "Brad, I'll call you tomorrow so we can finish up what we talked about." She grabbed for her purse and glanced questioningly back at Puck, "Why are you just standing there, Noah? Let's go. I'll tell you what streets to avoid so we can get there faster." She went to stride right past them when she was halted by a hand to her forearm.

"Rach, just wait a sec,"

"What is it?" she asked impatiently, "Rebecca is probably crying her eyes out in a bathroom stall right now," she wasn't looking at him as she pulled away, simultaneously trying to tug him with her towards the front door. The urgency in her tone and the concern she so obviously felt for his sister made it difficult for him say what he said next.

"I know, but I think maybe I should go alone. You should stay here."

Rachel stopped in her tracks and looked up at him, "You don't want me to come with you?" she asked slowly, "Why?"

He couldn't answer, and after a moment her confusion faded and her eyes lowered. "Oh, she doesn't-" Rachel swallowed thickly and bowed her head, her hair falling forward and hiding her face from view. "S-she wouldn't want me there, not after…." she trailed off and shook her head slightly. She looked back up at him, trying to appear supportive and unaffected by the indirect rejection she had been faced with. "You're right; she's your sister, you should go by yourself."

Puck felt like the biggest asshole on the planet, hearing the hurt in her voice that she had been unable to disguise, but his biggest worry at that moment was Rebecca and he didn't have time to placate his emotional girlfriend. "M'sorry, baby." He pressed a kiss to her cheek. "I have to go. I'll call you as soon as I can to let you know what's up, okay?"

Rachel nodded wordlessly and he hugged her tightly to his chest for a moment, glancing helplessly over her shoulder at Brad and Kurt. Kurt moved forward and wrapped his arm around Rachel's shoulders when Puck stepped back. "So we have you all to ourselves tonight then?" He commented cheerfully, for Rachel's benefit. "Let's do facials! I have a new facial spritz I know will do wonders for your pores."

"Sounds like fun," Rachel said quietly, with a small, forced smile.

Puck sighed and glanced at her one last time before allowing Brad to walk him to the door. She offered him another half hearted smile before he disappeared from view.

"She'll be fine," Brad promised as he opened the front door and ushered Puck out. "Kurt will treat this like a slumber party and I'll pop some popcorn and sit through _The__Way__We__Were_ for the thousandth time - that'll cheer her up. You just focus on your sister."

"Thanks man," Puck replied gratefully, already reaching into his pockets for his truck keys. "I appreciate this. Take care of her."

"You know it," Brad grinned and they exchanged handshakes.

He did know it; aside from himself, and maybe the Hudson's, there was no one he trusted more with Rachel than Brad and Kurt. That might sound proprietorial and condescending, but the truth was that they had all been handling her with kid gloves lately, seeing her stress levels increase steadily each day as a result of the situation they were in with her soon-to-be ex husband.

Thinking about the ridiculous paternity claim Michael was asserting, Puck fought to keep his anger in check as he pressed down on the gas and headed for Brooklyn; he had Becca to worry about right now, and he had a feeling that whatever was waiting for him at the dance was a giant clusterfuck of dramatic teenage proportions.

***/***

Puck sat on the edge of Rebecca's bed in the same spot he had occupied for the last hour, smoothing her covers and staring down at her helplessly. He could count on one hand the number of times he had seen his sister cry and looking back, he thought the last time might have been when she was 8 and his mother had told her exasperatedly that no, she was not getting a pony for her birthday. She was such a strong, independent girl, with a surly attitude and an unwavering confidence that rivaled his; it was just so unnatural to see her like this, all emotional and miserable, and so_...girly_. He was completely out of his depth.

"Tell me what to do, how can I fix this?" He begged, not ashamed of the desperation in his tone. Rebecca just shook her head blindly and continued to cry, and Puck let out an aggravated groan – he wasn't frustrated with _her_, just the situation he found himself in. It was fucking bullshit to just sit there, knowing that she didn't want him to leave but that his presence seemed to be offering her little comfort.

"You can't fix this," another voice told him quietly and his head shot up in surprise as Rachel appeared beside him, a box of tissues in her hands. His eyebrow rose, and at his questioning glance she just shrugged a little. "I'm sorry, I know you told me it would be best if I stayed in the city, but I had Brad bring me home, I just couldn't stay away," she lowered herself cautiously onto the other side of the bed beside Rebecca, who had turned her head to gaze at the new arrival through puffy lids, saying nothing as the tears continued to fall. Rachel placed the tissues next to the younger girl and settled against the headboard, stretching her legs out in front of her.

Puck had sent her a short text an hour ago stating that Rebecca and Josh had argued at the dance and that he had said some things in front of her friends that had embarrassed her, but beyond that Rachel was in the dark about what it was that had transpired and caused the usually emotionally guarded teen to become so upset. One look at Noah's frustrated face told her that he had been offered no further explanation himself. Irrespective of the cause, emotional upheaval caused by boy trouble could only ever be cured by one thing.

"We need ice cream," she declared sombrely. "Chocolate, with sprinkles, and maybe some whipped cream."

Puck just stared at her, saying nothing, until Rebecca added in a voice that he could only describe as hollow, "And cookie dough."

Rachel smiled sadly down at her and nodded, reaching out to run her fingers through the tousled blonde strands that she knew would have taken hours earlier that evening to curl and pin. "Cookie dough would be perfect. I do already have some in the freezer, it's Vegan though, because I can't eat raw egg while I'm pregnant."

Rebecca made a face at that but shifted and curled up closer to Rachel, seeking the comfort she sensed was on offer. The movement was unexpected, but welcomed, and as Rachel continued to stroke Becca's hair Puck stood, knowing that if he had to leave her for a moment while she was in this state, his sister was in the best possible hands.

"Alright, ice cream and _regular__people_ cookie dough I can do." he agreed, feeling suddenly useful. He met Rachel's gaze, "You'll be ok here while I run to the store?" he asked quietly.

She nodded, "We'll be fine," she assured him, before adding slyly, "and we'll love you forever if you pick us up cheeseburgers on the way home."

"Yes, cheeseburger," Rebecca echoed with a ghost of the first smile he'd seen from her that night. "And maybe a strawberry milkshake?"

"Ohhh," Rachel's eyes widened comically as she licked her lips, her expression telling him that she was suddenly ravenous, and _nothing_ but a cheeseburger and shake could satisfy her hunger. "A strawberry milkshake would be delicious….Noah?" she whined imploringly and he laughed heartily.

"Anything for my girls," he declared, leaning down to kiss Rebecca's forehead then Rachel's lips.

"I think we'll keep him." Rachel was saying conversationally to his sister as he left the room. He grinned when he heard the answering giggle. For the first time since he pulled up outside the dance an hour before, he was confident that by the end of the night, things might be alright.

***/***

Rachel stumbled blearily into the kitchen just before ten the next morning. She paused and rubbed the sleep from her eyes as she glanced at Puck seated at the dining room table, shoving cereal into his mouth as he read the paper. "Good morning," she yawned, running her fingers through his hair and scratching his scalp lightly with her fingernails as she passed. "You were up early," she acknowledged, switching on the kettle and reaching for her favorite mug and her herbal tea.

"Had some stuff to do at the garage," he replied, looking up from the sports section and grinning as he watched Rachel stretch. The hem of his t-shirt was riding up on her thighs and affording him a glance of pink cotton panty; he legit _adored_ her in his clothes.

"Hmm," she hummed distractedly, and then something seemed to occur to her because suddenly she was turning towards him and leaning back against the counter. "Why were you in the garage this morning?" she interrogated, suspicion lacing her tone. "You haven't worked a Saturday in over a month, not since you decided to let Steve take on more responsibility and you discovered Lenny needed the additional income."

"You're right," he conceded, shifting his attention back to the paper. "But I'm still the boss and there are just some things I have to take care of myself."

"Like?" Rachel pressed.

"Fuck woman," he looked up and was prepared to tell her nicely to mind her own business, but he was greeted with a knowing smile. Truthfully, he didn't mind her inquisitive nature and was never exasperated by her apparent need to know _everything_ that was going on, but she knew him well enough by now to determine that when he got defensive, it was usually because he was hiding something.

"What did you do?" she crossed her arms and squinted at him, the gesture so reminiscent of his mother that he mourned his unborn child's inability to get away with anything with a mama like Rachel.

He sighed and gave up the pretence. "Josh was scheduled to come in later today to help the boys rip out a couple of engines, so I had to go down there and call him - tell him that his services were no longer required."

Rachel's jaw dropped, "You fired him?"

"He humiliated my baby sister," Puck countered, bristling against the judgement he was sure was coming his way. "He took her to a dance - letting her believe he was interested in her - and then laughed when someone commented that they made a cute couple, very_loudly_ and very_publicly_ denying the possibility of that ever happening," he justified tightly, recounting the events Rebecca had dejectedly relayed to them the night before, between mouthfuls of cheeseburger, ice cream and copious amounts of cookie dough. "Then, as if that wasn't fucking bad enough, he got wasted on the flask he had snuck in and confessed the major wood he had for _you_ in front of the entire table of her friends. He's lucky that firing him is all I fucking did." He was grumbling now, unconsciously flexing his fist.

Rachel pursed her lips thoughtfully and said nothing. She recalled how upset Rebecca had been when she admitted that they had been right; she had been blinded by her attraction to him and fooled herself into thinking Josh's interest in her had been anything more than simple friendship. It must have pained the teen to offer up the apology she'd given them both for the way she had spoken to them the night before the dance, but Rachel was grateful that in the wake of her rejection, Rebecca wasn't holding grudges against them and was adult enough to realize their warnings had been given out of concern for her welfare.

Puck meanwhile was expecting Rachel to start berating him for his swearing and his veiled threat of physical violence against someone who was practically still a kid, and was surprised when she never did. Instead, she walked slowly to the table and pressed a lingering kiss on his mouth. She brushed her thumb over his lower lip as she pulled back before stepping away.

"You're a fantastic big brother, Noah, and you're going to make an amazing father," she stated simply. Without waiting for a response, she turned back to the whistling kettle and dropped a tea bag into her mug before filling it with the boiling water.

Puck watched her movements, rubbing his hand unconsciously against his chest - right above his heart that had tightened in response to the quiet conviction her words had held. It wasn't the first time she had said that to him over the last few months, but seeing her now, pottering lazily around his kitchen with the material of his shirt stretching taut against her abdomen that was swelling with his child, it just seemed to mean that much more.

_He__**was**__going__to__be__an__amazing__dad_, he promised himself as his eyes continued to follow Rachel's form around the kitchen, and he loved that it never occurred to her to doubt it. She must have felt the intensity of his gaze on her because she looked up and smiled, quirking her eyebrow as she padded over and took the seat opposite his, claiming the arts section of the paper he was reading.

He decided right then and there that if cheeseburgers were all it took to make her happy then he'd gladly spend his life savings on Burger King, because Rachel Berry was a keeper and he had no intentions of letting her go.

***/***


	19. Fancy Meeting You Here

_**A/N: So, I'm pretty much done with Glee. I haven't watched since episode 3.02 when I found myself wanting to punch each and every character in the face when I saw them on screen, so writing fanfic has been at the very bottom of my to do list. However, after having forced myself to finish my recent oneshot Noah Puckerman, Crocodile Hunter for the lovely Brookemopolitan, I started perusing the other unfinished documents on my computer and admittedly, I've fallen in love with Puckleberry all over again. Let's finish this, ok?**_

* * *

Puck was bent over a '70 Lincoln (whose best days were years, and approximately two hundred thousand miles behind it) with Lenny, when Rachel came bustling through the workshop, heading for the stairs that led to the apartment over the garage.

"Hello Noah," she acknowledged distractedly as she went to pass, "Lenny."

Lenny returned the greeting and Puck turned his head and smiled, glancing down at her petite frame as she attempted to dart past him; her body was beginning to compensate for the additional weight around her midsection and she had developed a subtle waddle that he thought was just adorable. He wiped his hands on his shirt and reached out to snag the strap of her purse, tugging her to a stop. "Hey, where's the fire?" he wanted to know. He leaned down to kiss her but caught her cheek instead as she turned her head at the last minute. His brow furrowed when she gently pushed him away and took a step in the direction she'd been heading.

"I have so much to do today," Rachel informed him by way of explanation. "I got the script for the play this morning and I want to read through it at least twice before I make you run the lines with me later tonight."

Great. It was Monday night football and the Jet's were playing the Bronco's; he'd made plans to watch the game with Finn, just so they could mock Rex Ryan who they both agreed was an obnoxious ass. He pretended to scowl at Lenny who was snickering behind his hand and turned his attention back to Rachel. "Sounds like fun," he deadpanned.

"It's not _fun_, Noah," she chastised, frowning. "This may not be Broadway, but regardless, I don't think you understand or can fully appreciate the amount of preparation that goes into a production - any production - and the script before rehearsals are even underway." She stopped only when she ran out of breath and he blinked slowly. Suddenly it felt like he'd been transported back to junior year, and there was Rachel, standing in the middle of the choir room, berating the group for their lack of commitment to whatever number they had just days to perfect before Sectionals.

"Okay, let's just back up the bitchy train a sec." he requested making a winding motion with his hand. "are you upset with me or something?"

She shook her head almost immediately, "No, of course not."

He gazed at her shrewdly, "Are you sure, because the 'tude that you're giving me makes me feel like I'm public enemy numero uno with you right now. What gives?"

Rachel sighed and rolled her shoulders. "I'm sorry," she apologized sincerely. "I don't know what's wrong with me today. I'm behaving like an irrational crazy person."

Puck opened his mouth to say something but shut it quickly when she shot him a warning look. "If you say 'hormones' I'll hit you," she threatened, softening her statement with a small smile. He held his hands up in surrender and grinned back.

"I really am busy," she reiterated pushing up on the balls of her feet to press a brief kiss to his mouth. "I'll see you later."

"Ok," he agreed easily, watching her go. Something was off with her today and he wanted to know what it was. She'd recently started working part time and had come home from her first few days bubbling with enthusiasm and talking his ear off as she shared every detail of her day, right down to the amount of tickets she'd sold and number of email enquiries she'd responded to. With that in mind, he was understandably concerned by the drastic change in her demeanour and wondered if something had happened today at the theatre that she was keeping from him.

Still, she made it clear that she wanted to be left alone so he resolved to getting on with his day and leaving Rachel to hers.

He turned his attention back to the engine and lasted just ten minutes before his gaze began to habitually shift to the foot of the stairs, as if he expected Rachel to appear any second. Lenny noticed, and when their eyes met over the engine he shot Puck a knowing look. "Go," he instructed simply.

Puck looked back to the stairs but reluctantly shook his head. "Nah, we gotta get these pistons changed, c'mon, we're already behind."

"Boss," Lenny put down his tools also and fixed him with a stare. "I got it covered. The owner won't be picking it up till after six anyway, and Steve'll be back with the fan belt any minute now. So let me ask you this: Who do you think is more deserving of your attention right now? This piece of shit, or the smoking hot chick living in your apartment who, oh yeah, happens to be pregnant with your kid?"

Puck ducked his head and shuffled his feet. "She thinks I'm coddling her," he admitted a minute later. "Accused me of hovering; and anyway, you heard her before. She's _busy_."

Lenny hid his smile at the resentment in his boss' tone. Rachel wasn't wrong; he ducked out of the workshop to check on her at least a dozen times a day, and if she left the apartment to meet Quinn or Kurt for lunch, he was constantly calling her to check in. But his concern was justified, Lenny supposed. Rachel's ex was apparently giving her a hard time and when she walked through the workshop each morning on her way to the theatre, she looked like she was carrying the weight of the world on her slim shoulders.

"I think she likes it," Lenny decided, and despite her behaviour that day, Puck knew it was true. Her earlier grumpiness aside, her face would light up whenever he appeared at the top of the stairs with some weak excuse as to why he needed to come up to the apartment, and as much as she chastised him for neglecting his work and hated how obviously concerned he was about her, she liked being the centre of his attention. "And even if she doesn't," the older man continued, "the worst mistake a man can make is leaving his woman to her own devices when there's obviously something wrong."

Huh, so Lenny had noticed that too.

Puck waged an internal battle with himself as he tightened a bolt and dropped his wrench on the tool bench with a loud clatter. Decision made, after muttering a quick 'be right back" to a smirking Lenny he took the stairs two at a time, wiping his grimy hands on his shirt as he went.

He found her in the living room, lying on the floor in front of the entertainment unit with a throw cushion under her head, lightly rubbing her belly and singing softly along with the CD that was playing. A thick script sat abandoned to her side along with a bottle of water and a box of crackers – she obviously hadn't got _too_ immersed into her reading.

As he stepped further into the room, she stopped singing but continued to hum along with the chorus, unaware of his presence. Puck dropped to his knees beside her and placed his palm on her stomach. Her eyes opened at his touch and she flashed him a small smile.

"Hey,"

"Hey back," she replied quietly, blinking owlishly up at him.

He jerked his head at the stereo. "What's this, something for the show?"

She shook her head, "No, it's just an album I downloaded from iTunes. Jenny Morris is the artist and it's one of her old recordings from the 80's, I believe. I heard this song in the waiting room at my last obstetrician appointment; it's about her unborn child. It's beautiful isn't it?"

He cocked his head and listened to part of the song. It wasn't his type of music but it was serene and soothing and he could see why Rachel liked it, and liked listening to it with the baby.

"You ok?" He ventured eventually.

She shrugged a little, her lips downcast, "I've been better," she admitted honestly. "I'm just-"

"Tired." He finished for her, and she nodded, covering his hand with hers and sighing. It was no secret that she hadn't been sleeping well these past few weeks. He was waking up in the middle of the night to find her side of the bed cold and empty, an when he went looking for her, she was either standing in the kitchen staring off into space or sitting on the couch in the dark, worrying.

Brad was finding Michael's lawyers as uncooperative as always, and then there was the fact that she was continually bombarded with phone calls and texts from her ex until Puck had convinced her to change her number to give them both a reprieve.

She must have known what he was dwelling on because she found herself admitting quietly, "I'm apprehensive of Michael's next move. While we're in this holding pattern until the baby comes and we can dispel his paternity claim once and for all, I can't help but think he has something else up his sleeve."

Puck stilled, considering her suspicion. "What makes you think that?"

Her smile was twisted, "Because I happen to be well acquainted with my husband's vindictive streak. While I admit I am at a loss as to why he is fighting me so hard on the divorce, I'm sure he is smug in the knowledge his actions are causing me such heartbreak."

His jaw clenched after her frank admission. He hated whenever she admitted how deeply she had been - and could be - hurt by the man whose face Puck was just itching to rearrange. He had loathed the other man at first sight, simply because he was married to Rachel - a girl he had always been protective and yes, _possessive_ of in his youth, who, within hours of meeting her again as adults, he had been able to envision sharing a life with.

Later, when Puck had come to learn the truth behind her estranged marriage, and in the wake of her husband's physical assault upon her, the loathing had grown into full fledged hatred. He'd be lying if he claimed he wasn't plotting the other man's untimely demise in the moments when it all became to much for Rachel and she fell against his chest, her shoulders shaking as she let the anger and frustration consume her.

He felt the baby kick underneath their joined hands and his eyes came to rest on that spot for a moment before they lifted and met hers. She smiled wanly. "He's hungry," she determined before holding the hand he wasn't already holding up in a silent plea for his assistance in helping her up from the floor. He hefted her to her feet and drew her in for a hug, pressing a kiss to her temple. In these moments it was about the only thing he could offer her.

She let out a deep sigh and pressed her face into his chest for a just a moment before stepping back and walking wordlessly towards the kitchen. He watched her departing form with a mixture of anger and helplessness.

They were having a baby; this was supposed to be one of the happiest times of their lives where their only pressing concern was trying to convert his small study into something resembling a nursery, or decide on a name for their unborn child that they were both happy with. At times he felt cheated out of the experience of first (technically, _second_) time fatherhood and the blame for that lay solely with the Broadway Producer he fervently wished he would randomly run into. It would be a meeting Michael Weitzmann would not walk away from unscathed.

***/***

A few days later, Rachel was curled up on the sofa scrawling notes in the margin of her script when Rebecca barged into the room and stood in front of her, hands on her slim hips as she scowled down at her.

"I don't think you've been out of this apartment all week," the younger girl accused, "except to work or to collect the mail. Have you suddenly become agoraphobic or something?"

"Well hello to you too," Rachel replied dryly, marking her place and closing the script before affording the teenager her full attention.

"Seriously woman," Rebecca continued as she flopped onto the other end of the sofa, drawing her legs up and curling them under herself. "I've been home for like, half an hour and this place is so quiet I'm already going stir crazy. We have a couple of hours till dinner, let's go do something."

"What do you suggest?" Rachel indulged, stretching her stiff arms until her joints popped, drawing a wince from the younger girl.

"Shopping," Rebecca proposed, reaching into her pocket. "Ma just sent me this cheque so I could go buy winter clothes. Apparently her maternal guilt over ditching me for Thanksgiving in favour of Chi-town and deep dish pizza, amounts to two hundred and fifty big ones." She gave the cheque a smacking kiss and waved it in Rachel's face.

Rachel laughed and swatted her away. She'd been so wrapped up in things she'd forgotten all about Thanksgiving. Fortunately they had all been invited to the Hudson's next Thursday - Turkey was apparently Quinn's thing - so that was one less thing she had to stress about. Not that she would have been concerning herself too much with the holiday preparations; with her father's still on their cruise and her limited cooking expertise, she was sure Noah would have taken charge and managed a dinner for their small family. "I'm happy for you, Rebecca. I'm just not really in the mood to traipse through shops, looking at clothes that I have no hope of fitting into. I find it rather depressing, actually."

Rebecca rolled her eyes as Rachel gave her belly an exaggerated pout. "You need fresh air," she lectured, "conversation; the opportunity to interact with people beyond these four walls!"

"And I'm going to get that at the mall," Rachel inferred, amused. "With you," she added, tongue in cheek.

"Now you're catching on," Becca cheered. "Look, I promise it'll be painless. There's only a handful of stores whose clothes I'd be caught dead in anyway and we have a budget, so it's not like we'll be gone for hours. It'll probably be a whole new experience for you. I don't shop like you shop, Princess." There was no sting in her subtle dig at the life Rachel had previously been leading that allowed her to spend thousands of dollars at exclusive boutiques. Life nowadays was vastly different, yet Rachel never found herself longing for the inflated bank account she'd shared with her husband. She'd learned the hard way that money couldn't buy happiness and she wouldn't trade this new reality – Noah, the baby, Becca (on her good days) for anything.

Rachel's silence spurred the teenager on. "I know you love your new job and everything but you've got other shit going on. You need to stop and smell the roses once in a while, get out of the house and spend time doing the things you like, seeing shit you wanna see, before the baby comes and all you have time for is diapers, pacifiers and tears."

"Did Noah put you up to this?" Rachel questioned suspiciously, since the girl was practically paraphrasing a statement that was one Noah had been making with increasing frequency lately.

Rebecca gave a half shrug then nodded, "Yep, gave me his credit card too in case there was anything you saw that you liked," she revealed, unashamedly.

"Of course," Rachel muttered, shaking her head.

"He's right though," Becca said. "You need a break. And all my friends are Twi-hard obsessed right now with the last movie coming out and everything, and I'm not hanging out with them until they get over it and agree that lusting after a dude that fucking _sparkles_ is just as ridiculous as it sounds. C'mon."

Rachel hesitated.

"I'll buy you hot chocolate…" Rebecca cajoled, smiling winningly and nudging her shoulder with a closed fist.

Rachel sighed, "You're very persuasive," she conceded, her resolve wavering.

"I'm a Puckerman," Rebecca asserted, as if it explained everything. It probably did.

"Is there a white chocolate macadamia cookie in it for me at least?" Rachel bargained, already beginning to rise from her position on the sofa.

Rebecca gave an exaggerated huff like it was paining her to compromise, "You drive a hard bargain Ms Berry, but you've got yourself a deal."

"I'll get my coat."

Rebecca watched as Rachel practically skipped towards the bedroom she shared with Noah, until a movement out of the corner of her eye caught her attention.

"Thank you." Puck mouthed from the top of the stairs where he'd clearly been eavesdropping. She just grinned back. Truthfully she would have done this anyway, but the $20 bucks he slung her on the sly didn't hurt.

True to her word, Rebecca wasn't one of those annoying girls that had to browse through every store and try everything on at least twice before leaving hours later, having brought nothing. She knew what she wanted, what colors and cuts looked best on her, and could be in and out of anywhere in less than 10 minutes.

After hitting up the stores Becca insisted were 'dope' and stopping at Starbucks for the hot chocolate and cookie promised to her, Rachel's feet were hurting and they were both pretty much shopped out. Before they left though, Rachel wanted to quickly stop into Kohl's because she was certain there was not one pair of socks Noah owned without holes, and he had been complaining incessantly since he accidentally smeared grease on his favourite flannel.

As Rachel flicked through the racks in the men's department, Rebecca quickly lost interest and wandered away, alternating between playing Angry Birds on her iPhone and texting her friends as she waited.

Rachel had just narrowed down her flannel shirt selection to a purple and black striped plaid that she knew would look prefect on Noah with his dark wash jeans, when a familiar voice remarked dryly from behind her, "You know, purple really isn't your color."

Rachel stiffened, recognizing the voice immediately.

She turned around slowly, affording herself a few precious seconds to prepare herself, casually holding her proposed purchase in front of her, as if she could hide her expanding stomach from Michael's assessing gaze.

"Khol's? Really?" Her husband drawled condescendingly as he looked around and gave an exaggerated shudder. "My, I didn't know times were _this _tough for you, Darling."

"What are you doing here?" She demanded lowly when she found her voice, unconsciously clenching her fingers into tight little fists.

He raised an eyebrow at her tone and shrugged, "I haven't been able to reach you; it seems your number's been disconnected. But I'm sure you phoned to pass along your new one, my secretary must have misplaced your message," he added sarcastically, knowing full well that she wouldn't have called.

"You couldn't get in contact with me so you resorted to following me until you could confront me _here_?" Rachel asked incredulously. Her eyes quickly darted away from the man in front of her, locating Rebecca who was thankfully out of ear shot, still fiddling on her phone, blissfully unawares of the confrontation occurring at that very second. Michael neither confirmed nor refuted her claim, staring her down with impassive pale blue eyes; she shifted uncomfortably when his calculating stare drifted to her belly. "There's a word for that," she added, straightening her spine, "stalking."

He laughed, "I'd hardly call it stalking, sweetness. I'd call it concern. You're almost at the end of your second trimester aren't you, is it wise for you to be exerting so much energy, traipsing over _Brooklyn _of all places?" His lip curled in derision and Rachel knew it must physically pain him to be seen visiting one of the outer Burroughs his Upper West Side upbringing didn't allow him to even consider part of the city.

"Despite you ridiculous claims to the contrary, this is not your baby! What I choose to do and where I choose to go are none of your business!" She retorted angrily, taking a step back and protectively moving her handbag in front of her body, intent on putting that extra barrier between the two of them.

"I beg to differ," Michael countered smoothly. "I believe I have a vested interest in you and your well being. You are, after all, my wife."

Rachel huffed exasperatedly, "In name only, and only because you won't sign the damn papers." Her hand shook as she impatiently brushed her bangs from her forehead and she hated that he could cause her to become so unhinged.

At that moment, Rebecca pocketed her phone and looked around for her shopping companion, finding her engaged in what looked like a heated conversation with some douche she'd never seen before. She took one look at the stranger's proximity to Rachel and his tailored suit that just stank of pretention, and took an immediate dislike to him. When she saw Rachel blow out an agitated breath, an unexpected protective instinct kicked in and Rebecca made her way over to the pair. "Who are you?" she demanded rudely without preamble, pushing her way in front of Rachel.

"No one," Rachel answered quickly, at the same time Michael considered the teenager in a bemused sort of fashion and replied haughtily, "Michael Weitzmann."

"The husband?" Rebecca clarified, raising her eyebrow at Rachel who nodded reluctantly. Predictably, Rebecca ignored the outstretched hand he had offered more out of habit than anything else, and subjected him to her patented sneer. "Huh, Noah was right; you are a schmuck."

Rachel fought a smile as Michael frowned, and despite the tenseness of the moment, she could have actually stopped and hugged the girl. It wasn't often that Michael was put in his place - noone usually dared - and, judging from the perplexed expression he was sporting, it was obvious he didn't quite know what to make of Rebecca.

"And you are?" he drawled patronizingly.

Becca blinked, "Hungry," she returned dismissively without missing a beat. She grabbed the shirt Rachel had been considering for Noah and shoved it back on the rack, linking their arms and tugging her away. "C'mon Rach, let's stop for a pretzel on the way home or else I might die of starvation before we even get there."

"Alright," Rachel agreed, resolutely keeping her gaze averted from Michael's as she allowed herself to be led away. "But don't tell Noah, you know how he complains if he suspects we've spoiled our dinner and fail to shower his cooking with a slew of compliments he believes he deserves."

"I think that'll be the last of his worries tonight," Becca muttered under her breath as she marched them towards the front of the store. Rachel pretended not to hear her, keeping her eyes fixed on the exit sign while sending out a silent prayer that their departure would go without further incident.

She breathed a sigh of relief when they made it out onto the sidewalk but barely a second later felt a strong tug on her arm that had her stopping in her tracks. She whimpered as she felt fingers digging painfully into the soft flesh of her wrist and she wasted no time wrenching out of Michael's restraining grip just as Rebecca yelled sharply, "Let her go!"

The volume of her voice commanded the attention of several passers-by who slowed their pace and regarded them with varying degrees of interest and concern. Michael must have felt their scrutiny because he reluctantly dropped his hand and took a miniscule step away.

"We have things to discuss," he hissed at her, surreptitiously glancing at their very public surroundings.

"On the contrary, I have nothing to say to you. And anything you wish to say to me can be relayed through my lawyer." Rachel countered tartly. Rebecca continued to glare but fell silent, offering support but sensing Rachel needed to finish this on her own terms. "You seem to have trouble recalling the fact that we are over, Michael. I've moved on and I suggest you try to do the same before I add harassment and a restraining order to the charges I'm already contemplating bringing upon you."

Her words were like a physical blow and she watched with satisfaction how he seemed to reel in shock. For once it felt like the tables were turning and she was beginning to secure the upper hand in this battle of wills raging between them. "Charges?" he parroted uneasily.

"Physical assault," she supplied steely. "Or have you forgotten the way you retaliated with brute force when I asked for a divorce? I certainly haven't."

"Hearsay," he claimed immediately, though the way he shifted nervously gave away his discomfort. "You can't prove I laid a hand on you."

"Oh but I can," Rachel's smile was brittle. "Though admittedly I asked him not too, Brad documented the injuries you inflicted and collected irrefutable evidence of the fact - including but not limited too, several photographs of my profile taken immediately after, video surveillance footage from the building of your return from LA and my battered departure shortly after, along with the testimony of our doorman who confirms the fact that I left sporting a noticeably bruised and swollen face - injuries I did not have when he saw me hours earlier. He can also attest to the fact that he granted no one else entry up to the apartment that evening, aside from you."

Smugly, she watched as his face whitened. "Six years, Rachel." he said eventually, "the two of us have commanded the respect and admiration of the entire theatre community. Do you really want to sully all we've accomplished in that time, because you know how gossip travels in our circles."

"Me?" She spat incredulously. "You're the one spreading malicious lies about me to anyone who is fool enough to listen to you. The last thing I want is to have more people speculating on the sham our marriage became, but you did this to us, Michael. You are the one who got us here, to this point; you made the decision to be unfaithful to me, not once but dozens of times-"

He rolled his eyes, "This is typical of you, Rachel, you always did like to embellish our troubles. And it's little hypocritical don't you think?" Michael continued, his smirk returning. "Like what you did with that grease monkey is any different."

"Don't you_dare_ compare Noah to one of your whores." she spat back, furious now that he could demean her feelings for Noah and liken them to the numerous meaningless flings he had enjoyed over the years. "You have no idea what we have together, what we've created." she touched her stomach meaningfully. "My pregnancy may have prompted my decision to leave you in the end, but the writing was on the wall years ago - you checked out of our marriage long before I did."

"Well who could blame me?" he returned snidely. "It was hardly a picnic, being married to you. It was exhausting dealing with your ego, so yes; once in a while I needed to blow off some steam. Men have needs, Rachel, and you certainly weren't performing any of your wifely duties and taking care of them for me."

She was stunned into silence as she listened to his twisted tirade and the way he justified his cheating. "I can't believe how you could even-" she stopped and just shook her head, there was no use in arguing with him when it was clear he was trying to absolve himself of any responsibility for the demise of their marriage.

"I'm having trouble understanding why you're being so difficult." Rachel confessed wearily after a full minute of the two of them standing there, just staring at each other with Rebecca hovering on the edge of her peripheral vision. "Can you please just be honest with me?" When he just quirked his eyebrow in askance, she took a chance that they might be able to lay their cards on the table and end this once and for all.

"If you were so unhappy in our marriage, why are you so reluctant to end it? I can't think of a single reason why you would want to prolong the divorce, aside from the fact that you obviously derive some pleasure from making me miserable. But to what end? What could you possibly hope to achieve?"

Michael took his time answering and when he did, it was without the usual air of self-importance that often colored his tone. "I need funding," he revealed abruptly in a rare display of truthfulness. "Given the state of the economy right now there are very few investors willing to splash out the kind of dollars I need to keep production afloat, so I've had to put up a chunk of my own to ensure the curtain goes up every night."

She inclined her head slightly in acknowledgement; Rachel knew only too well how much the arts suffered in times of economic turmoil. People were tighter with their purse strings and couldn't justify holidays or splurging hundreds of dollars on theatre tickets when they had mortgages and car payments to worry about. There had been a noticeable decline in audience numbers last year, meaning shows had been limited to shorter than usual runs, leaving too many talented actors and actresses out of work.

But she failed to see what that had to do with their divorce. She was only taking out of the marriage what she'd brought into it – her apartment. Michael's money remained his own and he was free to do with it what he wished. Unless…

"And those investors that are willing to contribute?" she prompted suspiciously.

Michael hesitated and suddenly all the pieces fell into place. As much as Michael liked to claim her success on Broadway was (talent aside) in part due to her position as his wife, it was an indisputable fact that Rachel played a significant role in his. It was no secret that a large percentage of the funding for Michael's projects came from rich businessmen whose wives Rachel had earnestly engaged and delighted at functions and charity events.

"So that's what this is about," she murmured faintly. "You're fighting so hard to stall the divorce because you're worried that those who miraculously haven't heard about our separation will be less inclined to invest once the news became public. And you're terrified that people might withdraw their support if my name is no longer attached to the project, however incidentally."

Rachel might have felt validated by this revelation - that her talent and reputation carried so much influence - if she wasn't so angry. But her life, and Noah's, had been adversely affected by Michael's stubbornness and vindictive refusal to go ahead with the divorce. And his assertion of paternity was, as Brad suggested, his trump card – his last ditch effort to hang onto her for a little longer, to suit his own purposes.

She took his silence as confirmation and laughed bitterly. He had caused so much heartache, yet he was so callous and self-serving that her feelings and the consequences of his actions meant less than nothing to him.

"It's my livelihood, Rachel-" Michael started. Defensively, she thought.

"It's my life!" she countered. "Reconciling is not an option I'd even contemplate, and there is no way I'd agree to stay married to you, just so can use my name for your own means."

He frowned as she let that sink in for a moment. "We're done here," Rachel stated with finality. "Stop fighting it and sign the divorce papers. Your career will just have to survive without me and I'm sure it will; it's an unfortunate fact of life that success often comes to those who are least deserving of it."

She spun away and grabbed blindly for Rebecca's hand then, clinging to the younger girl like a lifeline as it was her turn to propel them away.

"This isn't over, Rachel." he shouted after them, apparently uncaring now of causing a scene. "You can't get rid of me that easy!"

"And what part of this whole saga has been easy?" she muttered exasperatedly to herself as they strode quickly and purposefully away.

"You ok?" Rebecca ventured once she had determined they were not being followed and they had put several blocks between them and Rachel's husband.

"No," Rachel replied honestly, her bravado fading with each and every step. "I just want to get home."

Becca just squeezed her hand sympathetically and steered them towards the subway.

***/***

Puck had just consulted his watch and, after determining that the girls would be back from their shopping expedition soon, was just walking into the kitchen to start on dinner when they entered the apartment via the back entrance. His welcoming smile faded as soon as he caught sight of the two, seeing the distress written all over Rachel's face and the worry clouding Rebecca's eyes.

"I want to take the paternity test," Rachel blurted, immediately crossing to his side and clutching his forearms when she got within touching distance. "I can't do this anymore Noah; I need to get Michael out of our lives, once and for all."

"What happened?" He demanded immediately, knowing from her agitated state that there was something serious at the root of Rachel sudden decision.

"Rachel's douchetard of a husband accosted us at Khol's." Rebecca interjected from behind them, her mouth set in a grim line. "He must have been watching her because there's no way it was just one giant coincidence that he happened to run into her like that. From the look of that suit, there's no way he'd traipse all the way out to Brooklyn to buy $9.99 argyle sweaters."

"You're shitting me," Puck guessed flatly, his gaze swinging back to Rachel. "You have _got _to be fucking joking."

"Thank you, Rebecca," Rachel sighed, thinking that was the absolute worst way to sum up their surprise encounter with Michael. "But if you don't mind, I believe I can fill Noah in on the rest."

Rebecca shrugged, "I'll be in my room," she said, but before she'd made it three steps, she paused and turned around. "Are you sure you're okay, Rach?" The obvious worry in her tone had Puck's eyes narrowing. Sure, the two women had grown closer after Rebecca's formal, having shared heartbreaks and traded disastrous dating stories over ice cream and junk food, but he had never seen his sister so openly concerned when it came to Rachel.

"I'm fine," Rachel assured her quietly, her eyes never leaving Noah's face, noting the rigidness of his jaw as he struggled to mask his mounting anger.

"What the fuck did he do?" he gritted out between clenched teeth.

"Nothing," Rachel claimed quickly as Rebecca respectively retreated to give them some privacy.

"Ahuh," he muttered sceptically, intently running his gaze over her from head to toe, _inspecting __for __damage_, he thought darkly to himself.

"Really," she touched her wrist absently, a movement that did not go unnoticed. "I wasn't expecting him to suddenly show up here in Brooklyn looking for me, so his appearance just-" she was abruptly cut off when Puck intuitively and unexpectedly grabbed her left hand, shoving the sleeve of her sweater up.

"Don't fucking lie to me," he cautioned harshly before glancing down. When he saw the definite outline of reddened fingermarks imprinted on her skin, he expelled a string of expletives that were extreme, even for him.

Rachel bit her lip and waited for him to calm down, but when it didn't look like his anger would be abating anytime soon, she shook her wrist so he would loosen his grip and then slid her fingers down his palm until they were laced loosely with his. She waited patiently for his chest to cease its silent but erratic heaving and his attention to return to her face.

"Tell me what happened," he demanded lowly when he'd collected himself enough so that he wasn't snapping at her, but his tone warned that she should leave nothing out.

When she had relayed the conversation she'd had with Michael in its entirety she held her breath and waited for his reaction. Though he was proud of the way she had handled herself, there was no stopping his increasing fury.

"Noah-" she began cautiously, apprehensive of the darkening glint in his eye. She wasn't afraid for herself; Noah wasn't like Michael so she had no reason to fear for her personal safety, she was just worried that after the events of the day, he would seek a confrontation of his own with her husband. Her fears were justified.

"Don't _Noah_me!" he was yelling, too irate to care that he'd startled her with the volume of his voice. "You don't get to tell me to leave it alone this time! Asshole's obviously been skulking around, waiting for the opportunity to get you alone, and then he dares to lay a fucking hand on you? No." he shook his head and let her go. When he stalked through to the hall to grab the keys to his truck, Rachel physically threw herself in his path and clutched at him desperately.

"Noah, _please_. Where do you think you're going?"

"Get off Rachel," he tried to gently pry himself out of her iron like grip. "I'm going to walk out this door, and I'm going to go and fuck him up like the fucking asshole deserves. Weak bastard!"

She dug her heels in and refused to budge.

"Baby, come on, you'll hurt yourself," unfortunately for Puck, the fact that he was unwilling to use force to break her hold on him meant that he was effectively trapped until she decided to let him go, but for Rachel, that was not an option.

"No," she pressed up against him and tightened her arms around his torso. "I'm not letting you leave this apartment knowing what you intend to do. If you cared for me at all, you'd stay."

Her comment earned her another dark look. "That's a fucking shitty thing for you to say," he told her seriously and she nodded, shamefaced. "You're my…." He was at a loss how to describe what she was to him; she was fast becoming _everything_. "You're _mine_, Rachel." He said in a tone that simultaneously warmed her and made her heart beat erratically. He didn't care that stating it like that made him sound proprietorial and arrogant. It was true, damn it. "And by asking me to sit on this, it's like you're asking me to just accept what he did to you; saying it's okay," his thumb brushed lightly over her wrist as he stared down at the imprints of Michael's fingers. His mouth twisted as he looked back up at her, "this is not okay, Rachel; him ambushing you like that is NOT ok."

"I know," she admitted apologetically, holding onto his hand tightly as he went to let hers go again. "I know it's the complete opposite of acceptable, but…" she floundered for a moment, "If I'm yours, then you're mine too. And this baby is ours, so can you fault me for wanting to protect you, protect what we have."

"The fuck do I need protecting from?" he demanded scornfully. "From the Douchetard? Don't think so, babe."

Rachel just shook her head and tried to make him understand, "What we have may have come about unexpectedly, but this life that we're building together is so precious to me, Noah. I told you once before that I can't bear the thought of Michael tainting that, but he's doing that right now, and he'll continue to do so until we take the test and we prove that he's not the father of this baby."

"That's the only way to get him out of our lives, once and for all." She continued, trying to reason with him. "You roughing him up isn't going to solve anything and –"

"It'll make me feel better!" Puck interjected, scowling.

"And if you get hurt, it'll make me feel worse," Rachel countered, beseeching him with wide, pleading eyes. "You know how stressed I've been lately, please don't add to it."

Puck sighed and shook his head and she hated herself for bargaining with his feelings for her and his concern for her wellbeing. "Rachel….." Every ounce of his anger and frustration was reflected in the two syllables of her name. He was trying once again to tug his hand from her grip and just like before, she refused to let go.

"Let's just take the test," she tried again. "After that, if he so much as dares to send a holiday card after he's been notified of the results, I'll file a restraining order on him so fast his head will spin."

He was silent for a full minute, torn.

"Please, Noah." She whispered, lacing their fingers together and stepping closer.

He groaned in frustration and she flashed him a tiny smile when he finally looked at her; she knew she'd won but the victory felt hollow, and it wasn't one she'd be celebrating.

"Fine," he grouched eventually. "But if he comes within 100 feet of you before those results are in…" he trailed off meaningfully.

"You end him," she fought the urge to roll her eyes at his unspoken threat because she knew it wasn't idle and that he wasn't joking, not even a little. "Thank you." She pressed her face into his chest and expelled a deep breath.

"Don't thank me," he replied, still upset. His arms enfolded her and he squeezed her shoulders gently, resting his chin on the top of her head. "This fucking sucks."

"I know," she soothed quietly, running her hand down his spine in a gentle caress. "It'll be over soon," she promised, "then what else can go wrong?"

"Jesus, don't invite trouble." He muttered and his mouth quirked when she laughed lightly. She was smiling when she stepped away, running a hand through her hair. "I'm going to call Dr Montgomery first thing in the morning, alright? If we can get an appointment in the next few days, by the end of next week this could all be over. That would be one more thing to celebrate this Thanksgiving."

She sounded so confident, so relieved, all he could do was nod. Puck didn't trust himself to say anything in response because he had a peculiar feeling taking root in the pit of his stomach, and he feared that it wasn't going to be over, not by a long shot.


End file.
